


the magpie's solo

by dizzyondreams



Series: god tier emo au [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU: Music School, Abandonment Issues, Addictive Behaviours, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, It's all here folks, Jazz and Angst, Jean and Eren are messy English boys, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Uncertainty, the slowest of burns, yes my friends the sex tags have finally been added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 50,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8613052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyondreams/pseuds/dizzyondreams
Summary: There was something odd about him, something that interested Eren when all that interested him anymore was drumming. The way the look in his eyes, the curve of his mouth, didn’t quite match up with the rest of him. First violin, some button-down rich boy, but Eren had found him beating the shit out of a guy in an alley. Blood dark against his shirt, and his eyes like flint behind the trail of Eren's cigarette.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so! i'm really excited about finally being able to upload this! it's been sitting around unfinished on my laptop for the best part of two years now, but i recently was able to finish it by appealing to my competitive streak with nanowrimo lmao uh , it's all finished! 100%! i'll update once a week on sundays, probably, until it runs its course and i reach the end :^)
> 
> there will be some content warnings in this fic as it's very much about being mentally ill and everything that comes with that. i'll tag appropriately at the beginning of each chapter but if there's ever anything else you need warned for please don't hesitate to tell me! it can get a little Heavy (TM) it's not called god tier emo in my google docs for nothing
> 
> but anyways, enjoy, i'm really excited to share this with everyone :^) i miss erejean fandom a ton
> 
> also i wanna thank ana maria for constantly cheering me on with this and reading it and encouraging me, ur the biggest gem in my life

He drummed and he drummed until his hands burned with blisters and the sticks were slippery between his fingers from the blood. He drummed until all he knew was mindless white noise pain, the sweat on his face and the back of his throat sore from panting. He drummed until he couldn’t stand any more of it.

Then he drummed some more.

He fucked up, put his fist through the snare, one, twice, three times until the skin broke and his fist pushed through. He was yelling, some intelligible nonsense, and all he could smell was blood and salt.

The repair cost him £100. The guy at the shop had to ask him twice for his money before Eren could hear him through the tinny drumming in his ears.

\-----

Eren met Jean in a dingy back alley behind a local jazz club. No, actually, rewind. The first time Eren saw Jean he was ripping out a good steady beat, tempo just quick enough to get him sweating. The back of his shirt was sticking to his shoulder blades, and the next thing Eren knew he was being yanked off his stool backwards by some unseen force. His sticks clattered to the floor, and Eren leapt up with his fists at the ready.

The guy who had pulled him off his stool was already halfway to the door. Something about the way he held himself, all straight, squared shoulders and long strides, made Eren instantly interested. The stick up this guy’s ass was probably fatal, but Eren liked challenges.

“You got something to say to me?” He threw at the guy’s back, blood boiling when he paused to shoot a glare over his shoulder.

“Maybe stop with your incessant banging when people are in the room next door trying to work?” He suggested snidely, and goddamn if Eren wasn’t grinning and angry now. His face was long and angular, handsome in a sharp way.

“It’s a fucking music school, asshole!” He called after him, just as the door closed. “What else am I supposed to do!”

Fast forward two months, and Eren was stepping out of the fire exit of the 606, a seedy jazz club which Eren frequented from time to time. He had an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips, and his wrists ached even though he’d wrapped them as tight as he could handle. He was struggling with his lighter, fingers slow and clumsy from the pain of his blisters. Eren cursed, shook the damn thing, finally got his smoke to light.

Only when he took the time to look up, puffing smoke happily out of the corner of his mouth as he surveyed the alley, did he notice two things. First, there was definitely a small fight happening that his nicotine-controlled brain hadn’t let him notice until he got his smoke lit. And second, the guy who’d just landed a good square hit on the other dude’s nose, sending him down in a spray of blood, was only his handsome pal from the music rooms. Eren grinned around his cigarette.

He seemed to notice that he wasn’t alone in the alley after a few seconds of trying to unsuccessfully shake the blood off his knuckles. He turned, furrowed those perfectly plucked brows, pointed.

“Hey, you’re the drumming guy.” He said, like he hadn’t just beat a guy down so hard his blood was sprayed rather attractively across the front of his dorky white button down. Eren just smiled lazily and nodded.

“The man, the myth, the legend.” God, how had this anal little prick who constantly told Eren off for his drumming gotten into an honest-to-god fight? And won? Eren was a sucker for those buttoned up psychos. “What’d he do?”

The guy looked down at the man on the ground as if he was only just seeing him. “Called me a faggot for playing the violin.”

Eren flicked ash on the ground, grinned out smoke. “So you broke his nose?”

He shrugged and straightened out his shirt a little, rolled up the sleeves to show attractively lean forearms. His eyes were distant, like he wasn’t really there. Too bright and glazed. “I’ve done worse for less.” He said lightly, and Eren scoffed at the boast in his voice.

“Sorry, Mister Hard Man, didn’t mean to offend you.” He shook his head and looked down at his feet, grinning as he took a drag off his smoke. The stranger just snorted, and when Eren looked up he was gone, the fire exit door banging shut behind him. Eren looked at the guy on the ground, who seemed to be coming to, groaning and shifting. “I feel that, buddy.” Eren quipped, the ache of his wrists bone deep and exhausting. The guy spit blood onto the floor, and Eren snorted before dropping his smoke and grinding it out under the heel of his shoe.

Eren scanned the club for him once he was back inside, the warmth of so many bodies in such a small space making his wrists ache less. He rubbed them absently, trying to spot that stupid Cali skater boy haircut, the bloody white shirt. There was something magnetic about him, something that Eren found himself drawn to. He wasn’t sure if it was attraction, or dislike, or anything. He couldn’t describe it, could only crane his neck in search of a familiar sharp face.

He plays the violin, Eren thought to himself, a burst of feedback from the stage distracting him momentarily. Maybe he gets it.

What ‘it’ was, Eren didn’t know. But maybe the guy would.

 

\------

Fast forward three months, and Eren was in pain every day and going through bandages and the skin on his hands like it was going out of fashion. He could barely eat his meals with a knife and fork, but he was playing in a band that had a steady spot on the 606’s lineup. They were shit, and the saxophone player didn’t show up for rehearsal, but all experience was good experience in Eren’s mind.

He hadn’t seen mystery violinist/secret thug in a long time. Not to speak to anyway. The guy was first chair violin, and Eren got kicked out of the band after the incident with a cymbal and that clarinet player. He didn’t expect to see him again, but the feeling of connection still thrummed through his veins. He thought about him on the tube home, his head and his wrists throbbing in tandem.

Eren lived on the fourth floor of a decrepit block of flats in the bad part of town. The fire escape creaked when it was windy, the corridors smelled of piss and weed and various cooking food, there was thudding music at all hours of the night and day. Eren hadn’t had a full night sleep since he moved in. Sometimes he was one of the few up at 4am making noise. Sometimes his head was under his pillow and he was so angry he could cry because it was too loud to think, let alone sleep.

Anger flowed through him like another bloodstream. He tried to hammer it out into the drums, but he never bled what he wanted to. It coiled under his skin like something insidious. It reminded him of his father, and he drummed until he couldn’t hear that thought any longer.

Sleeplessness made him glazed, spaced out. He didn’t have many friends in his classes, they didn’t like him, found him too intense or angry or absent. He sat at the kit and drummed away, body moving on autopilot as his mind switched off. It was lonely, he supposed, that he existed in a separate sphere to everyone else. They carried on their lives outside of his little bubble, and he watched them like he wasn’t even there. Some days he wondered if he was even real, and called up his sister to reassure himself. She visited him in his shitty little flat, watched his band play, gave him a long hug at the door and told him not to be a stranger.

Eren tried, but everything was getting harder and harder, these days.

The band broke up a month later. A week after that, Eren marched straight into the off-limits music room and pointed at the handsome button up guy.

“What’s your name.” He asked, and the entire band was looking at him like he had grown another head. The conductor, a tiny little hardass named Levi, half-rose with a warning look in his flint grey eyes. Eren ignored him. Button up guy looked around him, lowered his violin and gave him a curious look.

“Jean.” He said, “Kirschtein.”

“Jean.” Eren repeated, rolling the syllables around in his mouth, trying it on for size. Then he nodded, turned on his heel, and left the room with a slam.

Levi chewed him out for it later, but Eren knew the violinist’s name and for once his head felt clear as day. He whistled on the ride home, bounded up the steps to his flat two at a time. Spent the rest of the night hunched over his kit, tuning it properly and resting his wrists. He looked Jean up on Facebook, laughed at his profile pictures for a bit before snapping his laptop shut and tugging a hoodie on.

There seemed to be a flat party on his corridor, and he stepped over two drunken girls on his way to the stairs. The smell of weed was so strong Eren was surprised he didn’t get a contact high off of it. He was pulling out his phone as he jogged down the steps, the buzz of energy under his skin impossible to bear any longer. He’d been rattling around his flat all evening, but he felt like he was about to go mad if he had to stare at the same white walls any longer.

Armin picked up on the sixth ring. His voice was soft, sleepy, and Eren felt something in his chest swell. There was noise in the background, muffled, the TV or the radio, maybe. Knowing Armin he’d fallen asleep in his homework, something on in the background for company. Eren tried not to sound manic.

“I need to see you.” He murmured, skirting a pile of rubbish and almost running headfirst into a huge man. “Sorry.” He said quickly, holding a hand out, and Armin made a worried noise.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, and Eren could almost picture him. Soft and pink cheeked, hair slipping from its bun. His heart beat double time, thumping like a kick drum. His free hand twitched for his sticks, and he huffed out a laugh as he skidded round a corner, head full of music.

“Cooped up.” Eren said, “Got a lot of stuff to say. Too loud in my complex.”

“You wanna stay over?” Armin asked, and Eren could hear the creak of his desk chair, the sound of a pen rolling across a desk. He nodded, then realised Armin couldn’t see him.

“Please.” He murmured, feet moving on autopilot. “I met a boy.”

“Tell me about it when you get here.” Armin said with a laugh, and Eren hung up with a hasty goodbye as he stepped onto Armin’s street.

He’d known Armin since forever. Their parents had lived in the same complex when they were kids, just down the hall from each other. Armin had been small and quiet and smart even back then, and Eren took on the role of his protector and had never grown out of it. Armin had been Eren’s first crush, and vice versa, and they’d never really grown out of that either.

Armin lived in a student flat with a couple of guys who rarely left their rooms. Eren felt a little guilty for knocking so loud on the front door, but less so when Armin opened it in a fluffy pink bathrobe with an amused expression on his face.

“Keep it down.” He murmured, and Eren rocked back on the balls of his feet, crossed his heart.

“I’ll be as quiet as the grave.” He whispered back, and Armin hid a laugh behind his hand before letting Eren past.

“You want something to eat?” Armin asked, stopping in the hall and casting a critical look over Eren. “You look like you haven’t eaten anything proper for weeks.”

“You’d be right.” Eren said with a grin, which he reigned in under Armin’s worried glance. “Anything’ll be fine.”

Armin made him a sandwich, let him bring it up to Armin’s room and eat it on his bed, curled up in sheets that smelt like home. It was dead quiet in Armin’s house, so quiet that Eren’s ears rang. He shook his head to try and clear it, made puppy eyes at Armin until he sighed and put some music on.

“I’ll never understand your aversion to silence.” Armin murmured, curling up next to Eren on the bed, knees to his chest. Eren shrugged.

“Takes your mind off stuff.” He said through a mouthful of food. “Can’t think if there’s noise.”

Armin gave him the look that Eren had come to dislike intensely. All scrunched up and sad and worried.

“You made any friends yet?” Armin asked, playing with a loose thread on his pyjamas. “In the band?”

“I was kicked off the band a while ago.” Eren muttered, then made a face. “Banned. Indefinitely. I might’ve lost my temper with someone.”

“Oh, Eren.” Armin murmured, sounding so sad and defeated that Eren shoved his plate to the side and scooped him into his lap.

“Armin, it’s fine.” He said, putting his face into Armin’s hair and humming. “I just frisbee’d a cymbal at this guy. It’s no biggie.”

“That’s pretty big!” Armin shot back, wiggling back a little to frown at Eren. “You’re gonna get yourself put on academic probation at this rate.”

“I’m getting all my work done on time.” Eren shrugged. “Spending overtime practising. It’s fine. I mean, I wanna make the uni jazz band anyways. Everything else is boring.”

Armin shook his head in defeat, but let himself be pulled back against Eren’s chest. “So who’s the guy you met?” He asked, tipping his head back against Eren’s shoulder and smiling after Eren gave him a quick kiss.

“His name is Jean, and he pulled me off my drum stool and yelled at me the first time we met. Then I ran into him in the middle of him beating some guy up in an alley.” He grinned at Armin’s disapproving look. “He’s hot.”

Armin narrowed his eyes. “He doesn’t seem nice.”

“Yeah but like!” Eren shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. “I think he gets it, you know?”

“No, I don’t.” Armin said slowly, gripping Eren’s bigger hands in his. He looked down at them, making a sad noise. “Eren, you’ve gotta take better care of your hands.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eren mumbled, shaking his hands from Armin’s grasp so he could tug his hair out from its bun. It fell to his shoulders, soft and blond and pretty. “I missed you.” He said quietly, brushing Armin’s hair over his shoulder to press a kiss to the nape of his neck. “I don’t wanna talk about heavy stuff. Let’s just cuddle and catch up. Tell me how your classes are going, tell me everything I’ve missed.”

They talked for a long time; Armin curled against his chest, Eren’s arms wrapped protectively around him, his face in Armin’s hair. It was easier to be himself like this, wrapped up in the dark and the quiet with someone who loved him, who understood him. If he cried a little bit, Armin didn’t mention it, just pressed a kiss to his chest and stroked his back.

Eventually they fell asleep, Eren feeling better than he had in a long time, wrapped up close with someone he loved and trusted. The quiet of the house rang in his ears, but for once he wasn’t bothered by it. He drifted into a shallow sleep with his lips pressed to Armin’s forehead, heart heavy in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! let me know what u thought :^)
> 
> i can be found over at girlshinji on tumblr if you wanna keep up with updates that way, but i'll definitely aim for sunday nights as update days!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for a panic attack at the near-beginning of this chapter. nothing too explicit just thought i'd warn

Rain lashed against the windowpanes of the small practice room Eren was drumming away in. He cocked his head to the side as he took a gulp of water, hands throbbing in time with the beat in his head. He’d always found rain relaxing, and let the white noise of it soothe through his mind before picking his sticks up and launching into some Miles Davis, easy and blue to match his mood.

The conductor of the jazz band had come to Eren four days ago. Their name was Hanji, a lanky, haphazard ball of jazz genius with cracked glasses and wild hair. Eren had always admired them, always been eager to please. They’d listened to him drum; Eren hadn’t even noticed them, so caught up in the rhythm.

They’d offered a spot in the band. Provisional, he had to show improvement, but if he did he’d be in for good.

Eren had said yes before Hanji had even finished speaking.

He didn’t feel happy about it though, for some odd reason. There was a weight in his chest that made it hard to draw breath, and he couldn’t help thinking how about long it was gonna take him to fuck it up.

He skipped their first practice because he was too busy having a panic attack in the bathroom, face pressed into blistered and bleeding hands, lungs screaming for air as he gasped and sobbed. No one came looking for him, and after a while he scraped himself off the floor and took himself home. His head was throbbing with the beginnings of a migraine, and Eren couldn’t shake the panic ebbing in his chest for the rest of the day.

He practiced hard for the next week, only stopping to sleep when he couldn’t grip his sticks anymore for all the blood. He left bloody marks on his set, all the way to his bed where he collapsed into the sheets, blood drying sticky on his skin. He stared at the ceiling and listened to the thudding music through the walls, the buzzing of the fluorescent light he’d forgotten to turn off. He slept, half-lucid as he ran through rudiments in his head.

Monday morning found him sitting at a table in the cafeteria, staring dully at an unpleasant looking slab of mac and cheese and feeling his blisters throb in time with his heartbeat. A tray clattered onto the table in front of him, and he startled at the sudden noise yanking him out of his thoughts.

“Heard you made the jazz band.”

It was Jean Kirschtein. Jean Kirschtein of first violin, of the alley behind the 606, of the corner of Eren’s mind that he hadn’t been able to clear. He stared at him dumbly for a moment, lips quirking up at Jean’s dorky glasses sliding down the bridge of his aquiline nose, his prissy little button up.

“How’d you hear that.” He asked, slow, watching Jean stab a fork into his unappealing looking salad, spearing a cherry tomato before putting it in his mouth. He tipped his head to the side, nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose, chewed.

“Grapevine.” He muttered, swallowing. “You know how it goes.”

Eren shrugged, poked at his food with his fork. “I’m Eren Jaeger.” He said, when it became apparent Jean wasn’t going to say anything else.

“I know.” Jean said, then, “I saw your band play at the 606.” He shrugged, eyes on his food. “They weren’t good.”

“Fuck you.” Eren shot back on reflex. Sure, his band hadn’t been good, but only he could say that. “We broke up anyway.”

“Probably for the best.” Jean murmured, and Eren bared his teeth at his food in annoyance.

The silence between them stretched and eventually Eren put down his fork and leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms. “So, can I help you?” He asked pointedly, and Jean looked up from his half-eaten salad in surprise, as if he sat with Eren at lunch every day. He cleared his throat, shrugged.

“I see you eating alone a lot. Figured you’d appreciate the company.”

Eren rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the tiny pang of disappointment that Jean was only sitting with him because he pitied him. "I’m perfectly fine hanging out with myself, thanks." Eren shot back, digging irritably at his mac and cheese. Jean hummed around a mouthful of water.

"Suit yourself." He said after swallowing, then, "I know some people who'd be interested in forming a jazz band though." He leaned back in his chair, fixed Eren with those eyes that he remembered from the alleyway. Sharp and interested, challenging. Eren felt his fingers twitch around his fork.

"Oh, yeah?" He muttered, "What makes you think I'm even interested in another band? I just made Hanji's jazz band anyway."

Jean shrugged and the tension in the air dissipates, the sounds of the cafeteria flooding back in. "Just thought you'd be interested. If Hanji's band is enough for you then that's fine." He ate another tomato, let his gaze wander around the cafeteria. Eren had the distinct impression that he was waiting for something. He sighed.

"How am I supposed to know you're not fucking with me?" He asked, and Jean shot him a wide eyed look of betrayal, so over-exaggerated that Eren found himself smiling.

"I'd never fuck with anyone." Jean said, laying his hand over his heart earnestly. Eren rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, we've never spoken and now you're telling me all about your friend's band." He shrugged and sat back in his chair. "What gives? Last time I saw you, you had some guy's blood all over you. Maybe you wanna murder me to drain my talent."

"Firstly, that's not a thing anybody can do, not even me," Jean said, holding a finger up. "Secondly, you ran into band practice and demanded my name then left without ever speaking to me again. How do I know you're not some secret talent draining murderer?" A flash of amusement in his eyes interested Eren. "You're a good drummer, the only good thing about your old shitty jazz band."

"That might be a little unfair to the other guys." Eren said, leaning back in his chair. Some nagging thought in the back of his mind was telling him not to trust Jean, that there had to be some sort of ulterior motive in him sitting down with Eren and talking with him. Complimenting his drumming. Eren felt a grudging bloom of warmth in his chest and took a bite of his mac and cheese to try and dispel it.

Jean flapped his hand dismissively. "Nah, really. I don't just say stuff, your band sucked but you were good." He dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter and stood. "Look, I've gotta get to practice but seriously," He picked his now-empty plate up and reached for his satchel. "Think about it. I know a great bassist, and he knows a great sax player. You could actually be playing decent jazz with them."

He didn’t give Eren a chance to reply, just gave him a sharp parting smile and left, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he went. Eren sat in the sudden silence for a second, wrinkling his nose as he processed what just happened. The pain in his hands seem to return with Jean's departure, the dull aching of his head, that sleep deprived throb behind his eyes.

He considered Jean's offer. Considered the commitment of a band that he hadn't made, the fact that he probably couldn’t just duck out of practice because his brain was particularly fuzzy that day, that his hands hurt too much to grip his sticks. Considered the prospect of spending all that time with Jean.

There was something odd about him, something that interested Eren when all that interested him anymore was drumming. The way the look in his eyes, the curve of his mouth, didn’t quite match up with the rest of him. First violin, some button-down rich boy, but Eren had found him beating the shit out of a guy in an alley. Blood dark against his shirt, and his eyes like flint behind the trail of Eren's cigarette. Something about him set Eren's teeth on edge, in the best possible way. Sometimes it was good to have something to push against, someone who wouldn't be careful with him because of what they knew about his past. Jean didn’t even know him, didn’t know anything about him, and for some reason this thought settled comfortably in Eren's chest.

He left for a smoke before afternoon practice, still mulling Jean Kirschtein and his offer over in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! and all the feedback on the first chapter was so good, you guys, i'm glad to be back writing erejean it's good vibes. this chapter was a little short, i know, but i hope you all enjoyed it anyways.
> 
> idk if anyone is interested also but i made a pinterest board for this au which is really primo content if i do say so myself, it can be found [here](https://uk.pinterest.com/neckworu/au-drummer-erenviolinist-jean-attack-on-titan/) if you wanna immerse yourself in this au more


	3. Chapter 3

He didn’t see Jean for a couple of weeks after their meeting in the cafeteria. Eren settled into a numb little groove of practice, uni work, and fitful sleep. He saw Armin a couple times, but found he couldn’t stand the way he looked at him, all sad and worried, so he began to ignore his calls, then his texts. His sister came to stay with him for the weekend, took him out to a bar and tried to get him out of his head. When she left he sat alone in his grubby one room apartment and cried for no discernible reason. Life carried on.

Jean occupied a sizeable chunk of his mind. Something about him had sparked an interest in Eren, a real interest, one that was hard to let go of with a personality like Eren's. It was the way he'd sat across from Eren and talked to him like a human being, not in the careful and measured way Armin and Mikasa talked to him, or the brusque, dismissive way his bandmates had. He'd joked with him, told him his drumming was good, offered him a place on his friend's band. Eren almost hated himself for being so taken in by Jean in such a short time, but he just _couldn’t_ shake the odd attraction he felt towards him.

He mulled this over as he approached Hanji's office, hands stuffed in his pockets as he walked. Their office was inexplicably located in the basement of the building, a cosy little room next door to the janitor's closet and the boiler. All you could hear was the rumbling of the boiler, and it was always too warm, which meant Hanji was never dressed properly for the year-round gloom of British weather.

They'd asked him to come see them in that absent-minded way they had, catching him by the arm almost as an afterthought as he left practice. He tried to quell the rising anxiety in his chest, that maybe he was getting kicked off the band because he hadn't been playing well, or because Hanji had overestimated him. He knew he has a long way to go with improving his drumming, he wanted, _needed_ to do better, and he needed to be on Hanji's band to do so. He was more than ready to argue if they were planning on kicking him out.

They glanced up as he entered the room, giving him a wide grin as they gestured to the chair sitting in front of their desk.

"Eren, take a seat."

Eren watched in a kind of sick fascination as Hanji pushed together a seemingly random collection of papers before stapling them and throwing them in a box marked 'OUT'. Then they rested their elbows on the desk and turned their lopsided, hazy smile on him.

"Eren Jaeger, drums." They said, and waited. Eren nodded awkwardly, and they carried on. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you to come see me."

Eren took a deep breath to settle the butterflies in his chest. "If it's about my drumming, I promise I've been practicing and can do b-"

Hanji cut him off with a wave. "It's nothing to do with your drumming." They said shortly, and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t been aware he'd been holding. "You're a good drummer, Eren. You're a hard worker, and I like that." They paused, and Eren waited for them, wondered if this is going anywhere. Now that he knew he wasn’t being kicked out of the band he could relax a little, try and focus on why else he might be there now his heart wasn’t going a mile a minute. He felt anxiety ebb in his chest when Hanji sighed and leaned back in their chair. "But I don't want you overworking yourself. I understand that it's a dog eat dog environment here, and you want to keep your spot, and I understand how hard it is to plateau at anything you're passionate about."

Eren opened his mouth to retort, but Hanji barrelled over him. They gestured to his hands, which were curled in loose fists on his thighs, and as their attention shifted to them he stuffed them back into his pockets. "I don't want you hurting yourself over this, Eren. I've noticed your hands, and I've noticed your absences. I've noticed you don't seem to get along very well with the other members of the band." They shot him a pitying look, and Eren felt himself flush hot at the embarrassment of it. Being pitied by the conductor of his school jazz band. It left an ugly taste in his mouth. Pitied because of his inability to make friends, pitied because he didn't know when to stop, didn't know what was good for him.

"It's not a problem." He muttered, eyes on a spot just above Hanji's left shoulder. He could feel shame bubbling under his skin, condensing into anger like venom. "I have friends outside of band."

"I want it to be a place you can enjoy yourself." Hanji murmured, and Eren had never seen them so sincere, so collected. "It's nothing you need to worry over. I don't want you to think you need to be practicing this much," They waved in the general direction of Eren's hands, curled tightly into fists in his pockets, the scabs breaking along his palms as he clenched them. "To impress me, or the others, or anyone."

"I enjoy drumming." Was all he said, and as the words left his mouth he wondered if it was still true. Was it enjoyment? Pushing himself to be better, the best, until he hit breaking point, then going beyond even that. Was drumming the catharsis it used to be, or was it now the reason he needed to bleed and cry and sweat? "It's not about competing, or anything like that." He muttered through tight lips. Another lie, because who was Eren if he wasn't competing? If he has nothing or no one to prove himself against, to push him and spur him on, then who was he? Some fucked up kid with fucked up wrists and nothing to show for it. A face with nothing behind it. On days where he felt like an empty vessel, when it became hard to deal with the realisation that everyone _wasn’t_ like him, that he wasn’t _normal_ , he could drum until he bled and he would feel some degree of comfort.

Hanji gave him a searching look, brows furrowed behind their thick, fingerprint-smudged glasses. "Well," They said eventually, leaning back in their chair and sighing, "I don't believe you, but I trust that you're smart enough and have enough self preservation not to self destruct." Hanji's gaze softened. "You know you can come see me if you ever need to."

"Sure." Eren murmured, not looking at them. There was a lump in his throat, hard to speak around, that threatened tears at Hanji's soft words. Eren wasn’t very used to people being gentle with him outside of the safe arms of Mikasa or Armin.

He left Hanji's office with their office times scribbled on a piece of paper that he binned as soon as he could. Some proud part of him recoiled at the thought of being weak enough to tell anyone about how he was feeling, let alone someone like Hanji.

An image of Jean flashed through his mind, bloody knuckles and a careless shrug. _"I've done worse for less."_ Unbidden, again, that thought that Jean would understand. It wouldn't be weak to talk to Jean.

Eren's feet carried him off of campus, almost on autopilot as he made his way back to his horrible flat, that green, washed out fluorescent lighting, the ever present smell of piss in the lift. His drum kit was still set up from last night, he hadn't slept so he hadn't needed to take it apart. He considered cooking himself some food, but his feet brought him to his drum stool and he knew exactly what he needed to do to shake off Hanji's lingering pity.

He took a quick shower, scrubbing at his palms where his scabs had cracked and started bleeding again. His wrists felt weak and tender, and he spent a good ten minutes looking for the athletic tape Mikasa had sent him in the post before he taped them up good and tight. 

He almost laughed at the fact that he's literally using tape to keep himself together, and settled himself down at his kit, ready to take out his day on his drums.

\----------

 

He didn’t see Jean for the rest of the semester, both of them lost to exam prep. Eren started sleeping all day, staying up all night either studying or drumming. He threw himself into studying with a fervour that at first surprised him, until he realised it was too much like his growing obsessiveness with drumming. He had nothing else to occupy his mind, so he worked and he slept and he didn’t do a lot else. 

 

He felt strung out, touch starved, but the promise of getting top marks was enough to keep him stuck at it. He’d never been a very smart kid, had always thought he’d coast his way through university on average marks and a sports scholarship. But then he’d hurt his knee, and that was all it took to get him into something new. It wasn’t that he was a perfectionist, really, he was just too intense and too stubborn to offer himself up to a life of living minimum wage job to minimum wage job. He wasn’t as smart as everyone else, but the fire of the fear of failure in his chest kept him striving harder than the smart ones.

 

He was in one of the practice rooms after a long stint in the library, head bent over books, when Hanji sought him out. It reminded him vividly of the time they’d offered him the spot on the band when he glanced up and saw them in the doorway, sheepish.

 

“Oh, Dr. Zoe.” He said, dropping his sticks and straightening up. He pushed a hand through his hair, and winced at the feel of fresh new blisters. “I didn’t see you.”

 

“I don’t want to interrupt, Eren.” They said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind them. There was something off about them, and Eren couldn’t place his finger on it. 

 

“It’s fine.” He said slowly, dread creeping into his stomach. “I was just de-stressing after studying.” He forced a smile, and they grinned brightly back. It didn’t reach their eyes, and he watched as they took a seat on a desk near the door. He tilted his head to the side questioningly, and they sighed. 

 

“Eren, as much as I wish I came here to just pass pleasantries, I’m afraid I’m here to be a hardass.” They grimaced and pushed their smudged glasses further up their nose. “Which is obviously my least favourite thing to be, I tend to leave that up to Levi, but he’s.” They wrinkled their nose. “Mean.”

 

Eren was nonplussed. “Okay.” He said, voice a little rough from disuse. The silence stretched, and he really didn’t like how apologetic Hanji was beginning to look. It was making him anxious, that curling ball of dread in his stomach creeping up his throat. 

 

“You haven’t been coming to band practice.” They said frankly, and Eren tipped his head backwards as understanding bloomed. Right, sure. Of course. “You know we can’t tolerate it, especially when you’re in it provisionally anyway.”

“Sure.” He said, not trusting himself to speak more than one word at a time. His throat felt closed off, choking with something he couldn’t place. His hands were clenched tight on his knees. He couldn’t look on Hanji, just focused on the worn centre of the snare and willed himself not to freak out.

 

“I’m sorry.” Hanji said, and Eren ignored them. He could feel the burn of tears at the back of his throat, behind his eyes, but refused to give in while they were still watching. “Maybe next year, if you work your attendance out, but we have shows we need to prep for. We can’t sit around wondering if our drummer is going to show.”

 

“I understand.” Eren said tightly, not even willing to fight it. He might’ve if he wasn’t running on two hours of sleep and cigarettes. He would have a few years ago, when he still cared about shit, but now? He let Hanji leave without another word. “Fuck.” He breathed, eyes focused on the floor as he felt his head spin. “Jesus Christ.”

 

He didn’t remember getting home, but he swam back into himself after pouring himself a clumsy measure of rum and necking it back in no time at all. He grimaced at the taste, and poured himself another. Another shitty couple of days turning into a week, like a never ending stream. He couldn’t even focus on his studying, not with the pent up disappointment and the drink lingering at the edges of his mind.

 

“Should’ve argued.” He muttered to himself, pacing from the end of his kitchen right up to the windows on the far side of his flat. “Could’ve kept my fucking spot.” He hadn’t gone to practice for two weeks, four missed sessions, because he’d been hyperfocusing on his work and sleeping through the day. Jazz band had been the goal after getting kicked out of Levi’s band, and now he’d blown both of them. He was an official _fuck up_.

 

He considered calling Armin, Mikasa, considered seeking out Jean in whatever part of London he may be in. Considered getting blind drunk by himself instead of facing his problems. Only one of the four was easy, so Eren sat himself down his rum and some shitty late night game show, and tried not to be himself for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comments are always super encouraging :^) 
> 
> as always you can find me on tumblr at girlshinji and if you want to keep track of updates i post them under the tag fic: the magpie's solo which you can track! i've also made a mix for this fic (one of three) that you can find [here](http://8tracks.com/girlshinji/i-saudade)
> 
> also, if you need anything tagged because i'm missing something because it doesn't show up as red flag for a trigger warning then please let me know! i know this fic can (and is going to be) a bit heavy so don't hesitate to ask me!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope everyone's pre finals weekends r going well, here's some sad bois i guess

Eren finished his exams fairly painlessly, and worked hard at settling into a sleeping pattern a little less nocturnal once classes were over. Summer was nothing special. Eren picked up a job at some corner store, selling cigarettes and junk food to people who barely spared him a glance. It was a dull monotony that was almost comforting, made maddening with the sticky heat that Eren always associated with London summers. Summertime was for drinking and smoking in some bar’s beer garden, but instead Eren worked his ass off and left that to the people who could afford to not work all summer. Sometimes he and Mikasa would crack a can open on his fire escape and listen to the sound of traffic as they soaked up the evening sun, but apart from that it was the same old.

When class started back up in late September, days were already drawing to an early close and Eren had that familiar feeling of another wasted summer. There wasn’t a lot else to do besides throw himself back into drumming and university and a different but achingly familiar monotony. It didn’t occur to him until he’d missed the first week of class that he was too depressed to handle himself, and he could feel himself drawing nearer and nearer to doing something stupid.

\---------

Eren bumped into Jean a week after the start of term at the 606. Literally, bumped into him. Jean was carrying a fruity-looking cocktail, and Eren wasn't looking where he was going, and it ended up all over him. There was a shock of cold all along his left side, and then a familiar voice was angrily telling him to 'watch it'. Eren looked up slowly, raising his eyebrows a little when he saw Jean.

"Jesus fuck, Jaeger," Jean said, loud over the sound of the band playing. "Try and get outta your head once in a while." He looked a little pissed off, but not anymore than usual. Eren shrugged and Jean did a double take, his eyes narrowing.

"What?" Eren asked, and Jean just tugged on his arm towards the fire exit, leaving his empty glass on a table by the door. "What?" Eren said again when they were outside, the air biting at his skin through his wet shirt.

"Let me bum a smoke." Jean said, and Eren grumbled but dug in his pockets for his cigarettes.

They lit up, and Jean leaned back against the wall as he tucked his lighter away. "So," He said, looking straight ahead. "You look like shit."

Eren stared at him for a second. "Okay." He said dumbly, unsure how to reply for a second, caught off guard. His brain had been too slow lately, much too slow to come up with some biting reply to Jean's blunt comment. Besides, Eren couldn’t really argue. He probably did look like utter shit.

"Seriously, man," Jean turned to face him now, and there was none of that concern that Eren was used to seeing on people when it came to his bad habits. Jean looked matter of fact, a little drunk, mostly pretty over it. Eren felt an odd sort of relief wash over him. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"Try two." Eren said dryly, but Jean didn’t laugh, just gave him a hard look. "I have insomnia." He explained, and Jean snorted and gestured to the hand holding Eren's cigarette.

"You got stigmata too? Because mate, you're bleeding through your bandages."

Eren shot him an acidic look and took a drag off his smoke, exhaled irritably. "Shit happens." He looked away across the dark car park, anything to escape the sharp intensity of Jean's gaze. He liked that Jean wasn't being careful with him, liked that Jean noticed he wasn’t doing good. In some weird, fucked up way, he was almost flattered that Jean had noticed that something was up with him. It meant Jean didn’t just look through him like so many people tended to do.

"I know plenty of drummers who don't rip their hands to shreds like you do." Jean said, tugging Eren back to the conversation. He shrugged and took another drag. "I'm serious, Eren. What's up with you?"

Eren laughed humourlessly. "Honestly, Jean, I don't even know where to begin with that." It was so easy, talking to Jean like this. Standing side by side in this dark car park. He barely knew Jean, but he'd known it would be this easy. He knew Jean would get it. "There's a lot." He said, and ashed onto the ground to avoid eye contact. "Up with me, I mean. It'd take longer than a fag break to explain, anyway."

“We could get out of here.” Jean said abruptly, and when Eren glanced at him he was frowning, profile lit by the flickering fluorescent over their heads. “And you can talk as much as you like.”

Eren stared at him for a long minute, a confusing pressure in his chest that he couldn’t put a label to. Something that made his stomach tighten with something akin to anticipation, or maybe it was fear. “Why would I wanna do that?” He asked eventually, voice a little rough. Jean finally looked at him, and Eren looked away quickly, fumbling with his lighter to relight his forgotten smoke.

“Because I’ve never seen someone who needed to get some shit off their chest as you do.” Jean replied, taking a drag off his cigarette and letting the wind carry the smoke away. Eren ignored him, shook his lighter a few times as it failed to light.

“Have you considered,” Eren began, finally getting his cigarette lit on the third go, turning to Jean as he exhaled smoke. “That I don’t know you, and don’t have to tell you anything?”

“I know.” Jean said amicably, dropping his cigarette butt to the ground and grinding it out under his heel. “But you’re never gonna get to know me if you don’t try.” Out of the corner of his eye, Eren saw Jean cast him a sidelong glance.

He was right. Eren knew that. All that nonsense about Jean getting _it_ , about Jean being the one person who could possibly understand where Eren was coming from meant jack shit if he couldn’t open up. But it was hard, too hard, and Eren could already feel himself mentally recoiling from the conversation, shutting down.

“Fine.” He found himself mumbling, tossing his cigarette butt and lighting another seconds later. “But you don’t wanna know about me.”

He could feel all the unsaid words he’d been bottling up for years lodged in his throat. All the things he’d been afraid to tell people, all the things he kept firmly wrapped up under a liberal coating of shame. Shame because he wasn’t like everyone else, because sometimes he did things he knew were crazy, because he knew if anyone knew they would never treat him the same. Mikasa didn’t, Armin didn’t. Eren didn’t want Jean, with his easy mockery and his sharp humour and his clever, stony eyes, to treat him different.

He was vaguely aware Jean was saying something, and tuned back in too late to catch it.

“What?” He mumbled, frowning as he ashed onto the ground. Jean huffed in annoyance, or frustration, which only made the words crammed in Eren’s throat more painful.

“I said, Eren, let’s get out of here and let’s get some fucking food in you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! it's a short update, but the story is finally gonna get going now i'm excited


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short update, i know, but this ocd brain of mine needed 25 chapters. i hope u guys enjoy! no warnings imo, just for eren's depresso ass

“Nice place.” Jean commented as he followed Eren down the hall towards his flat. His eyes scanned the peeling wallpaper, the grubby carpet, the flickering fluorescent strip above their heads that still hadn’t been fixed. “Got real character.”

Eren just grunted. “Not all of us can live in some flat mummy and daddy bought for us.” He muttered, unlocking his door and kicking at it as the lock stuck.

“I didn’t ask them.” Jean shot back, following Eren over the threshold and closing the door behind him. Eren made a gesture for him to flip the deadbolt, and he shot him a look that said, ‘are you serious?’ as he did.

“I don’t fancy my stuff getting stolen tonight.” Eren said tiredly, flopping down onto his beat up sofa, the springs groaning under him. He watched as Jean took a quick look around, taking in the tiny kitchen off to the side, Eren’s drum kit taking up most of the floor space.

“Yeah, I can see you got a lot to get attached to here.” Jean said, and Eren just rolled his eyes and kicked his shoes off, drew his legs up to his chest.

“You can sit down,” He said after a minute, watching as Jean peered at his drum kit. “Everything’s clean.”

“Dubious.” Jean muttered, “There’s blood all over this thing.” He leaned a little closer, nose wrinkled.

“Fuck off, then.” Eren snapped, more than a little tired of Jean already. It set him on edge, having a stranger in his space. His flat was private, and he didn’t like the way Jean was looking around like he was gonna get tetanus any minute.

Jean shot him a funny look, then crossed the tiny room to come sit next to him on the couch. Eren found himself wanting to lean into Jean’s body, feel the warmth and the solidness, the safeness. He hadn’t seen Armin in weeks. He missed sleeping next to someone.

“You wanna eat?” Jean asked softly.

“No food here, haven’t been shopping for a while.” Eren murmured, just as his stomach growled loudly. He was surprised. He hadn’t even realised he was hungry until Jean had mentioned it. “There’s takeout menus on the fridge.” He murmured, and when Jean got up he stretched his legs out into the space he had just left.

They ordered Chinese, and Jean paid. Eren didn’t even try to resist, mostly because he figured Jean had enough money to throw on some takeout. Eren didn’t even have enough money for the tube until his student finance came through. Every morning he had to wake up an hour early for his trek across London to get to uni.

“Who were you at the bar with?” Jean asked later through a mouthful of lemon chicken, poking the box of noodles closer to Eren with his chopsticks. Eren made a non-committal sound as he stalled to swallow his food.

“No one.” He said, reaching for a piece of chicken. “I go to the 606 alone all the time.”

Jean hummed, eyes on his food. “No one to go with, or do you just like going alone?” He was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, his head next to Eren’s knee. Eren was struck by the strong urge to run his hands through that stupid haircut of his, feel whether it was stiff from gel or as soft as it looked. He ate another mouthful of noodles to distract himself.

“Both.” Eren said, “I think.” He tipped his head to the side, considering. “I’ve only got two friends, and one of them’s my sister.”

“Bleak.” Jean commented, and Eren caught his grin as he kicked at Jean’s shoulder in retaliation. “Nah, c’mon, you’ve had to have made friends at university, at least.”

“No one except f-“ Eren cut himself off, the words stalling in his throat as he looked down at the back of Jean’s head. A wave of uncertainty came over him, deepening the pit in his stomach. Jean didn’t consider himself to be Eren’s friend, did he? He would’ve said if he did, right?

“Except?” Jean prompted, turning around to raise his eyebrows at Eren, who just shook his head and dug into his noodles. “Except for _me_?” Jean guessed, tone cloying. Eren felt his ears burn with shame. Stupid.

“Shut up.” He mumbled, setting his food aside, suddenly not hungry. He didn’t want to see that teasing little grin, didn’t want him looking so solid and clean and whole in Eren’s horrible flat. He felt a deep ache of disappointment in his chest, feeling cheated that Jean maybe wasn’t what he’d thought he was gonna be.

“Hey, man.” Jean said, a little too gentle for comfort. Eren moved away from him when Jean extended a hand, scowling into the corner of the room so he didn’t have to see Jean’s expression. “Mate, I was only joking.” He said, hand hovering unsurely between them. Eren looked at it, the faint tremor to his fingers, then to Jean’s face. He looked apologetic. Genuine. “I have a terminal case of making insensitive comments.” He offered, and Eren rolled his eyes. “Foot in mouth syndrome, they call it.” He said seriously, “Incurable.”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Eren muttered, looking away to hide his amusement. “You’re an asshole, I get it.”

“Hey, I just bought you food!” Jean said, grunting as he stood. “I abandoned my half-spilled mojito for you because I’m just such a _good guy_. Where’s your bin?”

“By the fridge.” Eren said, settling further back into the couch as he watched Jean gather up the empty food cartons. “I didn’t ask you to leave your fucking cocktail.”

“If I hadn’t you probably would have died of malnourishment, for sure.” Jean said absently. “Christ, Jaeger, take your bins out once in a while.” There was the sound of rustling bin bags then, and Jean’s noises of disapproval.

“I forget.” Eren replied, pulling the collar of his jumper up over his chin as he watched Jean navigate his space. The bone-deep discomfort he’d felt earlier was gone, replaced with something close to familiarity. It felt suddenly natural to have Jean in his kitchen, fussing over dirty plates and the empty fridge. It felt…normal. Eren hadn’t felt normal in a long time. “Lemme get your number.” He said, and Jean glanced back at him in interest, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Smooth delivery, Romeo.” He said, breaking out into a full grin when Eren grumbled and kicked out a foot in his general direction. “Give me your phone.”

Eren watched as he put his number into Eren’s ancient old Nokia. His face was lit from below, and Eren a strange warmth curl into his chest. It was only after Jean had left, full bin bag in hand, that he could place a name to it. He hadn’t felt so hopeful in a long time.

He slept on the couch, stomach full for once, and the lingering warmth of Jean’s presence in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for all your kind comments on this fic or the sweet tags on tumblr, you're all so primo and make me wanna share this fic even more. comments r my life and i love talking abt this fic SO MUCH so hit me up on tumblr if u ever want to i'm there @ girlshinji or newtguysler!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for eren being depresso and vague suicidal ideation

Eren realised weeks later that they’d never talked about what had been bothering him. The realisation of how close he’d come to it was both disappointing and scary. He wanted to tell someone, just to take some of the burden of it off of his chest, but the idea of someone knowing just how bad he was made his chest feel tight. Jean wouldn’t eat lunch with him again, wouldn’t smoke with him outside the 606 or share a taxi home with him. It annoyed him how dependent he was on Jean’s friendship, irritated him because he’d always prided himself on being so independent.

Eren hadn’t come to uni for a week until Jean showed up. He wasn’t sure why he’d not gone; there was no real excuse for it. He was tired, he was depressed, his wrists hurt so bad he couldn’t even stir a cup of coffee without wanting to cry. Whatever, suck it up and go on. But he couldn’t, he could feel himself tipping off the edge of deadened numbness into something closer to the place he’d been the time Jean came back with him from the 606, something more sinister.

It was nighttime, and he was scrubbing at his hands in the kitchen sink. Just a nervous reaction, he’d started bleeding again and something inside him had recoiled at the sight of it. He could just barely hear something over the noise of the tap, and he turned it off, ears straining, hands dripping red tinged water onto the lino.

A knock at the door. A strained “Jaeger, if you’re dead I’m gonna kill you,” just loud enough for Eren to grimace and hurry to unlock the door.

“Stop shouting.” He hissed, as he stepped back to let Jean in. It must’ve been raining outside; his hair was tousled and damp, and glasses spotted with water. Jean took one look at him and sighed.

“You’re a real fucking liability, you know that?” He muttered, pulling his damp jacket off and handing it to Eren. “I’m running you a bath.” He called, wandering into Eren’s bathroom like he owned the place, leaving Eren standing dumbly in the kitchen with his wet coat. His brain ached towards a conclusion, minutes late as he tossed Jean’s coat over the counter and followed him.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, dimly annoyed at how flat it came out. Jean had turned the hot tap on full blast, and the steam was making him feel clammy. His head spun.

“I’m doing what anyone does when their idiot of a friend doesn’t turn up for university for a week straight and instead spends all their time wallowing.” He said, yanking the cold tap on. His shirtsleeves were getting damp, glasses fogging up now. It registered vaguely to Eren that he’d never seen Jean play his violin.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He said, instead of doing something stupid like crying, or kicking Jean in the ribs.

“Get in the bath.” Jean said instead, standing up and facing Eren for the first time. There was something unreadable in the tightness of his jaw, and Eren didn’t know him well enough to guess.

“I’m not-“ Eren began, before Jean cut him off with a sharp motion.

“Get in the bath, and then we’re gonna talk about it, and then we’re gonna talk about the band you still haven’t agreed to join, and then I’m gonna make you a sandwich and steal your smokes.” Eren hesitated, and Jean stepped past him with a stern glance over his shoulder. “Bath.”

Eren got into the bath. Jean came back a minute later with a lit cigarette in his mouth and his hand clamped firmly over his eyes. His damp shirtsleeves were rolled up.

“You decent?” He asked, and Eren grumbled a noise of assent before he sat himself down on the closed toilet seat, ashed into the sink. “I really need you to warn me if you’re ever gonna do a week-long disappearing act again.” He said, placing a hand over his heart and closing his eyes. “I get it man, but Christ.” He exhaled slowly, eyes on the floor.

“You don’t get it.” Eren mumbled, knowing he sounded sulky but past caring. He drew his knees to his chest, the water making gentle noises against the sides of the tub. The heat of the water was easing the pain in his wrists and hands.

“Don’t assume shit.” Jean said, pointing his cigarette at Eren. His tone was just the comforting side of angry. Eren wasn’t grateful enough that Jean wasn’t being nice to him right now, because otherwise he’d probably cry. “Fucked up recognises fucked up, okay?” He took a drag off his smoke, let his words sink in. “I know where you’re at right now and I know that you’re better than it but I also know how fucking hard it is when you’ve got no-one.”

Eren opened his mouth, wanting to defend Armin, Mikasa, but finding himself unable to. Despite the heat of the water, he was shuddering. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He said, voice sounding distant. Jean stared at him silently, smoke curling from his mouth. His knuckles were scabbed, Eren realised.

“It feels good to.” He said eventually, then quieter, “It helps, man.”

There was a long moment of silence, in which the sloshing of the water and Jean’s quiet smoking were the only sounds. Jean arched his eyebrow at him, Eren glanced away, opened his mouth.

“I got kicked off of Hanji’s band, they told me to take a break, whatever. Same thing. Drumming isn’t fun for me anymore and it was the only thing keeping me going, and now I don’t know what to do.” Eren said in a rush, the words tumbling from him. “I don’t want to live with myself, I’m fucking insufferable. I don’t know when ambition turned into fucking, I don’t know. Punishment.” He stared at his hands under the water, barely visible past the ripples as they shook. He felt like he’d just been in a fight, adrenaline rushing through him. “I want to kill myself.” He said quietly, not looking up.

“That’s okay.” Jean said, and Eren glanced up at him to see him lean over to stub his cigarette butt out in an abandoned mug. “Don’t look so scared,” He said, catching Eren watching him. “It’s fine, I get it.”

“What do I do?” Eren said, eyes following Jean as he moved to come sit on the floor next to the bath. “I don’t want to be like this.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jean murmured, raising his eyebrows a little. A scar bisected one perfect brow, and Eren wondered what Jean meant by ‘fucked up recognises fucked up’. He wondered what was wrong with Jean; thought about that night in the alley, about Jean’s sharp, clean figure, the tremble of his fingers, his bloodied knuckles.

“No.” Eren said softly, eyes dropping to Jean’s hand, curled over the edge of the bathtub. Delicate and hurt and close enough to touch.

“We’re gonna have to make you start loving drumming again, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry holidays i'm mad at myself for not being able to publish the christmas chapter today but oh well


	7. Chapter 7

Eren met the band a couple weeks later, once he started to feel a little more human. Spending time with Jean was doing him good, it was so easy to fall into stupid little debates about _nothing_ with him or just to waste time with him. Pissing him off was fun, Eren discovered. Jean wasn’t as thrilled by this discovery as Eren was, but it was completely his fault for being so easy to wind up. Days didn’t drag as much as they used to when Eren was on his own. He still drummed too hard and too much, still didn’t sleep properly, still got surges of anger through him that were so strong they left him dizzy, but it helped.

The band consisted of two people, plus Jean, so Eren wasn’t sure if he could be calling it a band or not. There was a skinny black kid named Connie, sporting a shaved head and a double bass bigger than he was, and his girlfriend Sasha, who Eren liked immediately. She was taller than him, stoned, and called Jean, ‘Jeanbo’ mercilessly. She played the sax, and didn’t once take her arm from around Eren’s shoulders the whole time she was there.

“So _you’re_ the mysterious Eren that Jean keeps scooping out of car parks and alleys.” She said, hand warm on the back of Eren’s neck. He had to keep from tipping his head back into the touch.

“That was one time.” Eren clarified, “And I prefer enigma.” Connie laughed at that, and Eren felt a pleased warmth creep into him.

They were in a room that the three of them were renting for practice. The place was small, cosy and smelled of cigarettes and resin. Jean sat on a stool in front of a battered-looking upright piano, watching Eren closely. Eren could feel his eyes on him, and was pleasantly surprised when he found himself enjoying it. He hadn’t thought about Jean in any capacity past friend in a while, but as he returned to himself he found that the attraction he’d felt initially was coming back. He snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye to Jean, watched him run graceful fingers over the worn keys of what must be his piano.

“So you’re looking for a drummer?” He said into a gap in the conversation. Connie and Sasha were relentless chatterers, and Jean kept up with their banter with an ease born from familiarity. Luckily for Eren, he was an extrovert at his core, and found it easy to match his energy to other people’s.

“So you’re looking for a _band_.” Connie bit back, grinning to soften his words. Eren, surprisingly, found himself grinning back.

“Says who? Grapevine?” He shot a glance at Jean, who rolled his eyes in reply.

“Don’t get us mixed up in your grapevine, man.” Sasha said, tipping her chair back on two legs and winking. “We’re uh, what d’you call it-“

“University dropouts.” Connie finished, and they high fived without looking at each other. “Jean told us ages ago and we’ve been dying to meet the Eren Jaeger, the _enigma_ , himself since.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eren said, feeling way more relaxed under Sasha’s gentle combing of his hair than he had in months. “Fine, I’m looking for a band.”

“He’s trying to get himself out of a funk.” Jean piped up. “Capital F.”

There was a split second of awkward silence, in which Eren tried his very best to kill Jean as quickly as possible with his thoughts. Jean, stubbornly alive, gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence.

“If Jean thinks it’s a capital F funk, then it must be bad.” Connie said, no trace of judgement in his voice. “You’re in, dude, we need a drummer badly, so.” He shrugged, and Eren felt his face heat up, a mix of embarrassment and happiness. Sasha’s fingers started combing their way through his hair again.

Eren glanced at Jean, who gave him a thumbs up and a small, private smile. Eren smiled back.

\--------

“I’ve joined a new band.” Eren murmured, stroking his thumb down Armin’s side, pressing a kiss to his bony collarbone. Armin huffed and wiggled away from his hand, but his cheeks were pink and a smile quirked his lips.

“Better or worse than the old one?”

“Don’t know.” Eren said truthfully. “Never heard them play.”

“Smart move.” Armin commented, pressing his cold toes to Eren’s shin as he burrowed in closer to his body heat.

“It’s Jean’s friends, it’s not like they’re strangers.” Eren said, a little affronted until Armin pressed his palms to his cheeks until he was smiling grudgingly.

“Oh, Jean, the hot yelling guy.”

“He yells a lot less now.” Eren lied.

“Is he still hot?”

Eren mused it over, fingers twisting in the duvet. They were lying in Armin’s bed, a streetlight outside providing the only source of light in the room; it felt too intimate to be talking about his completely hypothetical and conditional crush on Jean. “I think so.” He settled on, hoping Armin wouldn’t pursue it.

However, Armin was Armin, and never let anything he considered vague left alone. “You don’t sound very sure.” His fingers combed through Eren’s hair a little fast now, anxious. Eren pulled one hand from his head, kissed Armin’s palm then let him go so Armin could curve his hand around his jaw comfortingly.

They’d always been like that, him and Armin. From when they first realised, almost simultaneously, that they didn’t like girls. It wasn’t sexual; Eren just loved him so deeply and broadly down to his bones, and knew Armin felt the same way. But still, it was hard to admit things that Eren had kept hidden from Armin. They never hid anything from each other; despite how strained their relationship had been recently.

“You know how I get.” He said lamely, and Armin made a sad little sound in the back of his throat. “It’s hard to like, wanna bang someone when you’re…like that.”

“I really hope you know that sometimes it’s about more than wanting to have sex with someone.” Armin deadpanned into the crown of his head, and Eren felt a laugh rise in his chest.

“You’re right.” He said, amused. “But I don’t know, I’m just. I’m good right now with whatever, y’know? I, uh, enjoy his company.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, wondering why it felt so much like confessing a crush to his _sister_ or something.

They were silent after that, Eren dozing comfortably with his face to Armin’s chest. He barely caught it when Armin spoke, only really listening when Armin said his name. “—right, Eren?”

“Didn’t catch that, dude.” He mumbled, trying to shake the dregs of almost-sleep away.

“I said,” Armin murmured, “You’d tell me if you got bad, right? Like, really bad. Last year of Sixth Form bad.” His voice was careful, and Eren tried to ignore the sudden ache for Jean’s matter-of-fact brusqueness.

“Sure.” He said, the lie sticking in his throat a little. Armin had too much going on for Eren to dump his problems on him. Armin was gonna finish uni and do something important, he didn’t need Eren dragging him down with him. His hands twitched around Armin’s waist, the sudden yearning for his drumsticks and blood on his hands almost painful. The burn of rubbed raw skin was intoxicating, a little like self-punishment but a lot like being high.

They lay in uncomfortable silence until Armin said, “Sorry for mentioning Sixth Form,” and brushed his lips to Eren’s forehead. “I promise I trust you, but I know what you’re like.”

“It’s fine.” Eren said, and let himself be kissed by Armin until his hands stopped clenching into fists.

\---------

Life became a steady beat of university, drumming and band practice after meeting Connie and Sasha. They practiced on Wednesday nights, and Eren had the rest of the weeknights to be alone with himself. Sometimes Jean would come over, sit in comfortable silence or bicker with him when he needed it. Jean was good at understanding which Eren needed. Tonight was a bickering night.

“Would it absolutely _kill_ you to make this place habitable, just once in a while?” Jean asked, waving a bottle of worktop disinfectant exasperatedly. “I swear, I catch something new every single time I come here.”

“Stop coming here then.” Eren mumbled from his seat on the couch, stuffing a handful of crisps into his mouth while he channel surfed. “Besides, we all know your immune system is as pristine as the upper middle class is accustomed to.” 

“If I have to hear one more thing about how I’m middle class, I swear.” He squirted some disinfectant at Eren, going for threatening and landing solidly in goofy. 

“Upper.” Eren reminded him and Jean sneered at him. Eren just grinned, threw a crisp his way. “You love it when I rag on you.” He said, tipping his head back against the wall behind him and watching as Jean wiped down his kitchen surfaces. “And besides, you’re way cheaper than a cleaner.”

“I’m gonna start charging you by the hour.” Jean muttered, but the look he threw Eren was soft and knocked him off his guard a little. The silence hung between them as Eren tried to come up with a witty comeback, the atmosphere over-inflated and heavy by the look in Jean’s eyes.

“You won’t have an excuse to come sit on my couch and watch my stolen freeview then, will you?” Eren said eventually, and Jean just snorted and turned away, a smile playing on his lips. 

“You’re right,” He said, running his cloth under the tap. “I couldn’t give _that_ up.”

They watched a cooking show together later, after Jean had cleaned the kitchen to his liking. He smelt like lemon disinfectant and his expensive cologne, and Eren ached to rest his head against his shoulder, to feel the worn cotton of his old t-shirt against his cheek. He felt touch starved and a little melancholy, sitting with Jean so close to him, feet just brushing the outside of Eren’s thigh.

“You good, man?” Jean asked, nudging Eren’s leg to get his attention.

“Just thinking.” Eren said, rubbing a knuckle over his eye. “You?”

Jean looked pensive, like he really needed to think about it. “I think so.” He settled on, then the corner of his mouth quirked up. “That kitchen was enough to make anyone depressed though.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Eren muttered, grinning up at the ceiling. Something funny and warm was balling up in his chest, and it only swelled further when he tipped his head to the side and caught Jean grinning at him. “What?” He asked, smile stretching further.

“Just thinking how it’s weird how this happened.” He gestured between the two of them.

“How d’you mean?”

Jean shrugged. “If you hadn’t been making that racket that one day I was especially pissed off I probably wouldn’t even be sitting here.”

Eren thought about the space that Jean had (and admittedly still did) taken up in his mind for so many weeks. “It was all me, man. Pure stubbornness to get back at you for interrupting me.”

“You’re in for the long con then, huh?” The TV’s reflection was glancing off of Jean’s glasses, and Eren wished he’d shift so he could see if his eyes had softened like they had earlier. The thought made his scalp prickle and his fingers twitch.

“Yeah for sure, I’m gonna fuck you over any day now.” Eren said teasingly, and Jean tipped his head back to laugh. He looked like a pleased cat, smiling so big his eyes scrunched up. Eren wanted to do something, run his hands through that hair (soft? Or gelled hard? The question still haunted him), find out what his mouth tasted like, if his hands felt good on Eren’s skin. He shivered a little, half-anticipation, half-adrenaline. He felt like he was toeing a line here, though he knew he really wasn’t. There was just something so intimate in the slant of Jean’s smile and the companionable way his feet were braced against Eren’s thigh.

“I’d like to see you try, Jaeger.” Jean said, amused. He held Eren’s gaze for a second, then turned back to the TV. Eren felt something inside him go slack, and he wondered if this was how animals felt after escaping the wheels of a car. He was the deer, and Jean’s normally stony eyes thawing on him were the headlights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year lads, i'm starting 2017 as i mean to go on: slow burn erejean


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's some warnings for this chapter! i'll go into more detail in the end notes because i don't want to spoil anybody who doesn't need in depth warnings, but there's warnings for: self harm, implied substance abuse issues and one of the charas having a b-down. like i said, there's more detail in the end notes in case you want to know, just scroll down!

Eren was drumming when Jean rang him. He checked the clock on the wall in confusion as he crossed the room to pick the phone up with hands slippery with sweat and a little blood. It was 3am, way past the time Jean ever texted him, and that sent a burn of anxiety through him.

“Jean?” He answered, and when Jean didn’t speak the anxiety in him flared up. “Are you okay?”

There was ragged breathing, then, “Can you get over here?” Jean’s voice sounded thick, like he was crying or had been. Eren’s heart was beating double time in his chest.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, already stumbling his way into his shoes, phone clamped between his ear and his shoulder. “Jean, what’s the matter?”

Jean let out a shaky exhale, then half-laughed, half-gasped, “I’m not good dude.”

“Shit.” Eren muttered, more to himself than to Jean. He stuffed his wallet and keys in his back pockets. “Yeah, man, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Jean lived on his own in Chelsea, where Eren rarely visited for obvious reasons. He’d been to Jean’s flat once, barely stood in the hallway - just long enough for Jean to grab his violin and go. All he knew was that Jean lived alone and didn’t speak much to his parents. That was all he could think as he flagged a taxi down and stumbled over Jean’s unfamiliar address.

He shouldn’t have put the phone down. He should’ve kept Jean on the line. He wiped his hands on his jeans, fear-sweat making his palms slick. His blisters, raw from drumming, scraped along the denim but he didn’t care enough to stop. He probably looked like a goddamn junkie, he thought, catching sight of himself in the driver’s rearview mirror. Trembling and pale-faced, eyes too huge for his face and ringed with purple from too many sleepless nights. He thought back to that night earlier that week, when Jean’s gaze had stopped him dead. _”You good?” “I think so.”_ What had changed since then?

He was practically out the door of the taxi before it even stopped. Just pausing long enough to hand a couple notes to the driver, “Keep the change,” and he was off up the steps to Jean’s house.

“Open the door, you goddamned idiot.” He muttered, leaning on the doorbell for Jean’s apartment and listening to it ring through the house. After a second, Jean buzzed him in, and he practically fell over his feet climbing the stairs to Jean’s top floor flat. He rapped on the door, the noise carrying through the otherwise silent building.

After what felt like hours, Eren heard Jean fumble with the latch before the door was yanked open, almost taking him with it. 

“Motherfucker.” He cursed, before closing the door behind him and looking up to find Jean trying very hard to sink into the wallpaper, it seemed. “Jean, what’s wrong?”

The lights were off, but the street light coming through the kitchen window striped Jean in sickly orange. His eyes were glazed, hair a mess like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. Without his glasses he looked different, younger. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced, like deep bruises. He was wearing just his boxers and a threadbare t-shirt, and there were several little round marks on Jean’s thighs. Eren sighed as Jean hung his head.

“I really need to not be alone right now.” Jean muttered, hands over his face as he let himself slide to the ground. Eren took a seat opposite him, heart no longer jackhammering in his chest now he knew Jean wasn’t in any immediate danger. A siren screamed past outside, the blue lights lighting up the little hallway and Jean’s slumped shoulders. Eren couldn’t think of a time he hadn’t seen Jean standing ramrod straight, sharp shoulders and chin turned up. This version of Jean scared him, and he nudged at Jean’s bare foot to get his attention. 

“How about we get you cleaned up and get some food in you?”

Jean seemed to stare right through him, eyes unfocused and off somewhere distant, but he nodded and let himself be dragged up and into the bathroom.

“Sit down.” Eren instructed, wishing the light wasn’t so bright. Jean’s eyes were red-rimmed and vacant, and his hands were white knuckled as he gripped the side of the tub to sit himself down. Eren busied himself with searching out the medical kit he knew Jean must have so he didn’t have to see him staring blankly at the far wall. 

After finding it (he knew someone as anal as Jean would have one) and sitting himself down on the floor in front of the bath, he noticed Jean was shivering in the thin t-shirt he was wearing. “I’ll be back in a sec.” He told him, and waited until Jean nodded to dash into the bedroom for a jumper. The sheets were balled up on the bed, and an ashtray was overflowing on the bedside table. Eren hadn’t seen Jean in about three days, and he wondered if he’d been holed up in here the whole time.

“What happened?” He asked when he returned to the bathroom, watching as Jean pulled the jumper over his head. Jean just shook his head and gestured, eyes too big in his face. “Can’t speak?” Eren murmured, coming a little closer and stroking his hand through Jean’s hair. When he shook his head, Eren nodded. “Okay, let’s get you sorted out.” Jean leaned into his touch infinitesimally. 

Eren didn’t have a lot of experience with things like this. He only had his own neuroticism as reference, and it wasn’t helping a lot when it came to Jean. He was used to Jean getting angry and lashing out, it was so commonplace that he barely even thought it was strange anymore. But this version of Jean, strange and still and so silent, even when Eren dabbed antiseptic over the burns on his thighs, freaked him out. 

“You are so banned from smoking.” Eren muttered, then groaned at his insensitivity. “Fuck, that was awful. I’m sorry. You know I’ve got a bad sense of humour.”

“Shut up, Jaeger.” Jean mumbled, a shadow of his usual exasperation in the words. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something, and Eren gave him an unsure smile that he huffed at.

Eren made him a cup of tea, because that’s all he knew how to do in a crisis situation, and sat him on the couch. “Stay here.” He said, and pointed to the couch for emphasis. Jean nodded dumbly, looking at some point over his shoulder. While he drank his tea, Eren emptied the ashtray, straightened out his bed and threw his dirty clothes in the hamper. He hid his lighter as an afterthought. 

“Feeling better?” He asked when he came back into the kitchen/living room, and found Jean sitting in the exact same position. Jean shook his head, but his tea was half drunk so Eren took that as a victory. He lingered awkwardly for a minute, fingers twitching for a smoke as the last of the panic-induced adrenaline ebbed away. 

“Come sit down?” Jean asked, voice a little stilted, but not as blank as it’d been earlier. Eren sat, and Jean seemed to gravitate towards him, head coming to rest on his shoulder. Eren tried not to think about how he’d been fantasising about this only three days ago, and brought a hand up to comb through Jean’s hair.

“You good to talk?” He asked, and Jean shrugged.

“Maybe. Yeah.” 

“What happened?” Eren toed his shoes off so he could draw his knees up to his chest, block out the cavernous kitchen and living room. He’d found Jean’s place depressing the last time he’d come here. Sterile and expensive and lonely. Too big for just one person. No wonder Jean felt off his head, rattling around here alone.

“Off my meds.” Jean mumbled, taking a sip of his tea. “Smoked a joint and it made me worse.”

“Shit, man, you should’ve come over. It’s never good to isolate.”

“Says you.” Jean replied, and Eren rolled his eyes.

“I’m not exactly the master of good decisions.” He waited a beat, and when Jean didn’t reply he said, “You didn’t hurt yourself any more, did you?” The cigarette burns on Jean’s thighs hung unspoken between them, and when Jean shook his head Eren couldn’t help breathing a small sound of relief. The final knot in his chest unwound.

Eren turned the TV on while Jean drank his tea in silence, at a loss for anything better to do. Eren had all the tact of a doorknob, and he desperately didn’t want to put his foot in it again with Jean. Not with the tenuous calm and the way his hands shook around the mug.

“You wanna try and get some sleep?” Eren asked eventually, when the sky started to lighten beyond the blinds and the birds starting singing. The dawn light cast Jean in watery shades of grey, made him look tired and drawn. Older than his twenty-one years.

Jean was silent for a moment, facing the TV but eyes staring off into nowhere. When he turned to face Eren his expression was tight, pinched. “You can’t leave me alone tonight.”

Eren didn’t point out that it was day now, that those scary, liminal early morning hours had passed. He wasn’t that much of an asshole. All he said was, “Of course I’ll stay, idiot,” before hauling Jean off the couch and into his bed.

By the time he’d emptied his pockets and tossed his jacket in the vague direction of Jean’s desk, Jean was snoring, pillow over his head against the weak light coming through the blinds. Eren pulled off his jeans and eased himself in next to Jean, careful not to wake him. He settled against the headboard, watched as the light became warmer, lit up the mess of Jean’s room.

He smoked one of Jean’s expensive cigarettes as he waited for his brain to wind down. The mad dash from his flat to Jean’s had gotten the cogs whirring a little too fast, as they often did when he was forced to switch mindsets too quickly. At one point, as he brooded through smoke number three, Jean turned his face into Eren’s thigh, burrowing down against the light. He looked peaceful, and Eren stroked a hand through his hair just because he could. Soft, sticking up in little cowlicks. Eren ran his fingers through it, worked out the knots as Jean slept against his thigh.

Eren fell asleep soon after that, curled around Jean, listening to the sound of traffic outside and the gentle hitch of his breathing.

————

The bed was empty when Eren awoke, and he patted blindly at the empty space next to him for a moment before his nose caught the smell of coffee. The red numbers of Jean’s alarm clock blinked a fuzzy ‘10 A.M’ at him, and he frowned at the ceiling for five minutes before getting out of bed.

Jean wasn’t in the kitchen, or the bathroom, and Eren spotted him eventually through the kitchen window, leaning against the railings of the narrow balcony with a cigarette in hand. Eren made himself a cup of coffee before joining him, lingering over the events of last night as the smell of coffee brought him back to life. He doubled back to pull on his jeans as the kettle boiled, since he didn’t need all of Jean’s neighbours seeing his skinny legs and holey boxers.

The balcony door slid shut loudly as Eren stepped outside, and Jean jumped at the sudden noise, hand flying to his chest.

“‘Morning.” Eren mumbled, sidling up next to him and raising his eyebrows at Jean’s overreaction. He spied Jean’s box of smokes sitting on the railing between them, and stole one with a muttered, “For my troubles.”

Jean just scoffed, and there was a shadow of his familiar bite when he said. “You smoked enough of my fags last night, you freeloader.” There was a tremor to his hand as he raised his mug to his mouth, but his eyes were alert and bright, which settled Eren’s mind a little.

“If you’re gonna get technical,” Eren mumbled as he lit up. “I smoked them this _morning_.” 

“It isn’t the next day until I sleep.” Jean snapped, and Eren leaned into his side in relief, smiling around his smoke when Jean nudged him back. “Thanks, though.” Jean said, a little softer, and Eren just shrugged and shook his head.

“Don’t mention it.” He muttered, then leaned on the railing and pinned Jean with a searching look. “Are you okay?”

Jean ran his free hand through his hair, face screwed up and almost...embarrassed? “Yeah I’m. It’s good, it happens. Normally I’d take a Xanax and try to chill out, but I’m trying to fuck with non prescription meds less and I thought a joint would do me, but it just made me more agitated.”

“Don’t smoke alone anymore.” Eren said, watching a magpie hop around on the opposite roof. What was that saying, one for bad luck? Sorrow? “Why’re you trying to avoid meds anyway? They’re there for a reason.” 

Jean was silent for a moment, and when Eren turned his attention back to him he was frowning, eyes far away. “I tend to get a little too dependent on shit like that, that’s all I’ll say.” He said eventually, then turned to go back inside, leaving Eren alone with the magpie and his thoughts.

\-----

Eren dozed on the tube home, the familiar rumbling and warmth of the underground lulling him into a sleepy daze. His half-awake mind kept catching on Jean’s scarred thighs, the wild look in his eyes, the sweet, gentle way he’d pressed his face into Eren’s thigh.

He only barely got off at his stop, jolting up and dashing for the doors to the irritated murmur of everyone in the carriage. He watched as it was swallowed up by the blackness of the tunnel, wind whipping around his face in the backdraft, before beginning the trudge home.

His flat was even dingier after the light expanse of Jean’s house, and he kicked off his shoes by the door as he surveyed the place. His mind was on an introspective loop of Jean’s shaking hands and red rimmed eyes, and he pressed his knuckles into his eyes as he grimaced, willing his brain to slow down.

As unnervingly co-dependent as it sounded, Jean was a strong presence in his life; the person who’d get him up out of bed when he wasn’t feeling it, who’d make sure he had food and showed up to band practice and university. He knew that Jean had his own issues, but seeing them given form and made real last night had really driven it home to him. It left him feeling untethered and insecure, like his support system was crumbling under his feet.

“Don’t make it about yourself for once.” He muttered to himself, throwing his hoodie onto the couch and pacing through to his bedroom. His phone told him he had a few hours until he had to be at uni for band practice, and he briefly considered going back to his drum kit before his body overrode his brain and he folded himself up on his bed, pulling the covers over his face to block out the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more detailed warnings: eren spots cigarette burns on jean's thighs, jean alludes to addiction issues re: benzos, and eren turns up after jean has lost it but he's spaced out and non verbal and just kinda Not Here
> 
> thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update! i was on a flight on sunday and then a bus on monday, so i didn't have a minute to update but here it is: better late than never

Eren dragged himself through his classes after he woke up in a haze, and the absence of Jean at lunch was so stark and odd that he dumped his tray after eating a few bites. He escaped to the practice rooms instead of eating, hammered away at the kit until his mind was clean and calm. His hands were shaking by the end of it, and when he washed away the blood in the men’s room he could barely recognise himself in the mirror. He looked at himself and wondered when was the last time he’d cut his hair, or tried to look _good_. His face was stubbly, the rings under his eyes dark and bruised-looking. He pulled a face at himself and turned the tap off, threw the pink-tinged paper towels in the bin on the way out. 

It was a Friday night, and he wondered if Jean and the others would be up for a few drinks at the 606 that night after practice. He usually went alone, but they’d been growing closer as a band since he’d started, and for once he felt good about his chances at hanging out. He imagined a slightly tipsy Jean, how he got more handsy when he was drunk, whether he’d give Eren the touch he was craving. It was purely selfish: the last thing Jean probably wanted was to go to a packed club and drink after last night. Eren thought about his tears, the burns on his thighs. God.

He caught the tube home, flicking through a discarded newspaper he’d found on the seat next to him as the train rumbled through the darkness. It was crowded, and Eren relished in the bump of elbows against him, the thighs pressed to his own. Was it creepy to be so comforted by the solid presence of a stranger next to him? Eren was feeling distinctly melancholy, and got off a few stops before his usual one, a half-formed plan in his mind.

Mikasa lived across town from both him and Armin, in a shared flat with way too many people. She worked three jobs, and it cut Eren to the bone whenever he thought about it. He didn’t mind not having enough money to eat, or the fact that he lived in a shitty flat in the bad part of town. But Mikasa deserved more, and he wished he could help her in some way. He remembered a few years ago, before he started getting so bad, before their father left, drunkenly telling her that he’d support her once he was in a band. She’d laughed, and Eren could understand that now. 

He leaned on the buzzer until a girl yelled at him through the intercom and let him upstairs. The lift was broken, so he took the stairs two at a time, rucksack bumping against his back. 

“Is Mikasa in?” He asked the girl who opened the door to him, and she just shrugged and let him by. 

“Mikasa, your kid brother is here!” She called, and Eren scowled.

“We’re the same age.” He pointed out, and she just rolled her eyes.

“I don’t care.” She told him, and wandered off into the kitchen. Eren was ready to have a go, but then Mikasa popped her head around one of the bedroom doors and waved to him.

“Eren!” She said, and Eren forgot about the night before, about his shitty day at school, his burning hands. He grinned, and she beckoned him over. “What’re you doing here?” 

He shrugged, hands in his pockets. “Haven’t seen you in a minute.” 

She was wearing joggers and a t-shirt that used to be Eren’s, and when she folded him up in a hug she smelt exactly the same as she ever did. It was the smell of home, and childhood, and Eren hugged her back fiercely.

“I’ve missed you.” She murmured, herding him into her small bedroom. “You won’t pick up your phone!” She reprimanded him, and he grinned when she hit him on the shoulder.

“I haven’t topped it up in a little while.” He said, taking a seat on her bed and drawing a pillow across his chest.

“God, you’re not still using that old Nokia, are you?” She said, taking a seat in her desk chair opposite. He produced it from his pocket and shook it at her, laughing when she rolled her eyes.

“Please enter the 21st century, I’m begging you.” She said, spinning gently in her chair. Eren pocketed his phone with a laugh.

“So, how are you?” He asked, closing his eyes as she reached out a foot to nudge his knee. It was so familiar and achingly home-y, something he hadn’t had in a long time. Part of the reason why he avoided Mikasa was because of that exactly, he didn’t think he’d be able to go back to his horrible flat and not lose it.

“I lost my job at the restaurant.” She said, and Eren groaned.

“How? The tips were so good.”

“I know.” She snapped, then closed her eyes and rubbed her nose. “I know, but the manager was a pig and I got sacked for calling him out on it.”

“God, Mikasa.” Eren muttered, and she rolled her eyes self-deprecatingly. “Should I kick his ass?”

“You know I’d do a better job of it than you.” She said, and Eren kicked at her in retaliation. “How are you, though? How’s school?” She moved to sit next to him, and he resisted for about half a second before he put his head on her shoulder and let her pat his hair.

“School is school.” He mumbled, and Mikasa hummed understandingly. “I’m in a band now, though.”

“So you’re good?” She asked, combing the tangles from his hair with her fingers. Her touch was comforting, exactly what Eren had needed, and he relaxed into her side. 

“I’m way good.” He mumbled, “Got friends now and everything.”

“Impressive.” Mikasa said, and Eren huffed out a laugh against her shoulder. He wondered if she was still using the same fabric softener their mum used to use; the smell of it brought with it memories of their better life, when their mother was still alive, before they got thrown to different sides of London, before Eren’s final year of sixth form and everything that came with it. 

“I’m not really that good.” Eren said quietly, breathing in the smell of home with Mikasa’s gentle, familiar hands in his hair. 

“I know.” Mikasa said. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Eren whispered, and let Mikasa fold him into a hug. “I think my best friend almost tried to kill himself last night.”

“Is that Jean?” Mikasa asked, and Eren frowned as he extracted himself a little from her embrace. At the look on her face, she shrugged. “Armin talks to me every night.”

“I really like him.” Eren said, quiet, staring at Mikasa. She looked tired, and Eren wanted to beat everything that was giving her those bags under her eyes into submission. “He’s more talented than me, he introduced me to the band I’m in,” He paused, and rubbed at his face. “He makes it okay that I’m batshit.”

“You’re not crazy.” Mikasa said, ever sensible, always ready to stop Eren from beating himself up, but for once saying the wrong thing. He shook his head and moved so they weren’t touching anymore. She looked hurt for a second, then smoothed out her face into something carefully calm.

“I am, it’s okay.” He said, “I don’t want to talk about it, though. Got work tonight?”

She shook her head, and the corner of her mouth tilted up into a hesitant smile. “I got fired, remember?”

He smiled, despite the heavy weight in his chest. “Let’s grab something cheap and eat it in Ally Pally park, and I’ll tell you about this girl in my band before I have to get to practice.”

“Oh, please.” Mikasa said with a grin, hopping off the bed and reaching for her shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no real warnings for this chapter, but connie kisses eren? it's not romo and won't come up again, i just love platonic kissing. anyways, enjoy

Mikasa got off at Piccadilly Circus, and Eren hopped on the Northern line to get to Camden in time for practice at Sasha and Connie’s new place. They’d stopped renting out the practice room they’d used to use once everyone protested to Jean secretly paying for it. He’d been doing it for months without them knowing, just telling them that he knew the owner and he let them in for free. Now they practiced in Sasha and Connie’s new basement apartment, pushed the furniture out of the way to set up. Eren didn’t have a kit there yet, but he was saving up whatever they made from small sets they played to buy another one cheap and secondhand. For now, he was content to watch Sasha and Connie fool around with a song, and interject whenever he felt like it. 

When he arrived, the basement stank of weed, and Connie was plucking out a bluesy beat that Sasha was nodding along to. 

“Hey, Eren.” She called, as he closed the front door behind him. “Jean’s not gonna make it today. Said he’d coming down with something.”

“Oh yeah?” Eren said, seating himself on the sagging couch next to her. She nodded.

“Yeah, hope he’s good for tomorrow though, we’ve got that set over in Soho.”

“He’ll be good.” Connie said, setting his bass on its stand and moving across the room to pluck a still burning joint from the ashtray by Sasha’s foot. “When have you ever known that guy to miss a show?”

Sasha pointed at him. “True.” She turned to Eren. “You wanna smoke up? We’re not really sure what to do without Jean here.”

Eren took the joint from Connie with a nod. “You solid on your part for tomorrow?”

“Concrete.” She muttered smugly, and grinned when Connie laughed. “Jean knows his piece off by heart, obviously.” She continued, “So I think we’re good for it.”

Eren was itching to play, to work out some of the anxiety about performing tomorrow night, but he had a joint in his hand and Sasha was curling up to his side, and he guessed that maybe one night off couldn’t hurt. “You worked out how to steal cable, yet?” He asked, and Connie whooped and ruffled his hair.

“I knew you couldn’t be a workaholic always, Jaeger.” He said, and flopped down next to him. “Remote’s over by Sasha, pass the joint.”

They found a re-run of an old episode of Come Dine With Me, which made Sasha hungry so she left to pick up some takeout for them to eat. That left Connie and Eren alone, mildly stoned and comfortable.

“Hey man, what’s the deal with you anyway?” Connie asked him as they watched a lady plate up a dish of pork on the TV. Eren took a minute to process what he said, and felt a goofy grin stretch across his face as he turned to face him.

“Not a lot.” He said, and laughed when Connie did too. “What’s the deal with you?”

“I’m very high.” Connie said, and grinned when Eren snorted. “No, for real, what the fuck is up, dude?” 

Connie had a nice smile. Teeth real white against his black skin. Eren wanted to rub his palm over his shaved head, so he did. Connie’s grin stretched further. “Jean’s not sick.” He mumbled, lost to the feel of the stubble under his hand.

“Yeah, I know.” Connie said, and Eren tilted his head questioningly. Connie shrugged. “He bullshits us but we’ve known him since school, we’ve seen him in all his weird crazy phases so we see it. We let him think we don’t realise because it makes him feel better.”

“I was at his apartment last night.” Eren said quickly, and Connie’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah, he rang me.”

“That’s so weird.” Connie said, and paused to take a drag. “He’s good, though?” He asked tightly, holding smoke in his lungs. Eren nodded, then shrugged.

“No.” He said, and then pulled a face at Connie’s expression. “He was alright when I left. He’s off his meds.”

Connie raised his eyebrows and whistled. “God, he always has the stupidest ideas.”

“Yeah.” Eren said, not mentioning that Jean had hinted at some kind of dependency to him. It couldn’t leave his mouth, too adult and scary to mention. 

Connie was looking at him sidelong, and their fingers brushed as he passed Eren the joint. “You guys hooking up?” He asked, and Eren spluttered on his exhale. Eyes watering, he thumped his chest, throat burning.

“What? No.” He croaked, and Connie was laughing now.

“Sick. You wanna make out?”

Eren’s hand was on the nape of Connie’s neck from when he’d been patting his head, and he brushed his thumb over the knob at the top of Connie’s spine. He shivered, that big grin still on his face. “Sure.” Eren said, because he truly wasn’t getting any right now, and Connie was cute and his friend, and Eren was so stoned that it was easy as hell to lean in and kiss him.

Kissing Connie was nice, Eren decided, sort of comfortable and just...nice. Connie had his hands on Eren’s face, gentle, and Eren ached at how he hadn’t been touched so gently by anyone who wasn’t Mikasa or Armin in so long. He scraped his teeth over Connie’s full bottom lip, and was rewarded by Connie opening his mouth and swiping his tongue over Eren’s lip. Their tongues touched, and Connie made a pleased noise, and then the front door slammed open and they jolted apart.

“God, Connie, tell me you didn’t jump Eren.” Sasha said, sweeping past them and dumping the food on the coffee table. Eren was frozen, staring at her like she was going to run him out of the house. Seeing his fear on his face, both Sasha and Connie laughed. Connie reached out a hand to punch Eren in the shoulder.

“Dude, calm down. She’s not about to go all Fatal Attraction on you.”

“If this was Fatal Attraction, wouldn’t Eren be trying to kill you?” Sasha asked, toeing off her shoes before curling up on the couch next to Eren. Eren, whose brain wasn’t quite sober enough to process this, was still tense.

“Fuck knows, never seen it.” Connie said, and leaned forward to grab the food. “Chips? Sweet.”

“What just happened.” Eren asked to the room, and both of them laughed.

“Monogamy isn’t real.” Connie said, settling back into his place with a newspaper of chips in his lap. “As long as we still come home and sleep in the same bed, we can do whatever we like.”

That was...oddly sweet. Eren slowly relaxed, and threw a self deprecating grin Sasha’s way as she ruffled his hair. 

“Is he any good?” She asked, and Eren almost choked on the chip he’d stolen from Connie. Connie shrugged, chewing.

“It was alright.” He said, and laughed when Eren punched him in the shoulder. “Okay, okay, yeah it was good, shit.”

“I always thought you and Jean were hooking up.” Sasha said, unravelling her scarf from around her neck and throwing it over the arm of the sofa. Eren just groaned and buried his head in his hands as Connie and Sasha laughed at him.

\-------

Jean did show up for their set the following night, and got outrageously drunk afterwards. Eren wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, and ended up getting just as drunk instead. Jean fell asleep with his head tucked into Eren’s neck on the tube home, and Eren couldn’t stand the thought of him waking up in his big, lonely house, so he took him home to his instead.

“You’re such a fucking liability.” Eren grumbled, propping Jean up against the doorframe as he fumbled with numb hands for the right key. Jean mumbled something unintelligible, and promptly fell through the doorway as Eren opened it. “God, I hate you.” Eren told him, and when he leaned over to try and gather Jean up, he tipped forward under his own momentum.

“Where’m I?” Jean slurred, and Eren just put his hand over Jean’s face and kicked the door shut from where he was lying.

“Floor bed.” He replied, and then he was out like a light.

When he woke, his head hurt and Jean was curled into his side, asleep. Eren groaned, pushing Jean away as he propped himself up on an elbow. His head swam sickeningly, and he cursed as he made his shaky way to his feet.

As if they’d slept on the floor last night. Judging by the crick in his neck and the warmth of the light coming through the windows, he’d been passed out for hours. He gulped down a pint of water, then another, and took a glass over to wake Jean up.

“Get up.” He mumbled, nudging Jean with the toe of his shoe. Jean stirred, swatting at Eren’s foot as he nudged him more insistently. “C’mon, you don’t wanna be putting your face that close to this carpet.”

Jean blinked open his eyes, squinting in the daylight. His glasses were on the floor next to him, obviously having been pushed off as slept, and there was a red dent on the side of his nose where he’d slept on them. Cute. Eren crouched down and held the glass of water out silently. Jean groaned and put his face into the carpet.

“I think I’m dead.” He groaned, and Eren scoffed.

“You’ve definitely had worse hangovers than this. Get up, I’ll make breakfast.”

“Please don’t talk about food.” Jean mumbled, then propped himself up enough to take the water. “I think I’m gonna puke. Where’s my wallet.”

“Both of us passed out in our coats last night, so I’m gonna hazard a guess it’s still in your pocket.” Eren said, swaying as he stood back up. His head was pounding, and he stumbled through to the bathroom to root through the cabinet for some painkillers.

“Fuck, how much did I spend last night?” Jean called, and when Eren came out of the bathroom he was sitting cross legged with his wallet open in his hands. Eren shrugged and knocked the pills back with Jean’s water.

“No idea mate, but you were buying my drinks all night too.” He collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh, and started working at getting his boots off.

“God, you fucking freeloader.” Jean said, tucking his wallet back into his pocket and succeeding on his third attempt to stand. When he bent to scoop up his glasses he almost fell on his ass again. Eren watched him disinterestedly as he came to sit on the end of the sofa.

“Hey, I gave you a place to sleep.” Eren said, bringing his knees to his chest so Jean had more room.

“Yeah,” Jean said, head in his hands. “Set me up in real quality accommodation.”

“Only the finest for you.” Eren quipped, grinning when Jean shot him a dirty look. “At least I didn’t leave you on the tube.”

“You would never.” Jean mumbled into his hands, and Eren was surprised by how that warmed him.

“Don’t presume.” He said lightly, and nudged Jean in the thigh with his foot. Jean immediately flinched, and Eren recoiled. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I forgot-"

"Don't worry about it." Jean snapped, cutting him off. Eren bristled at his tone, hungover and tender as he was.

"You don't have to bullshit me, you know." Eren said, thinking of what Connie had told him. Jean glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and if looks could kill Eren would be an unpleasant stain on the couch.

"I also don't have to talk to you about anything." He said, cold. "Not everyone spills their guts like you."

"Don't be a martyr." Eren muttered, lying back against the arm of the couch and covering his eyes.

Jean laughed, and Eren looked up when he felt Jean's weight leave the sofa. "You don't get to call me a martyr." He said, venomously amused. Eren glared. "Not when we have Joan of Arc sitting right here."

"Very funny." Eren snapped, standing as Jean moved for the door. "I'm just trying to repay you for having to deal with my shit for months."

"That's not how human relationships work, Eren." Jean retorted, "It's not like some fucked up," He gestured wildly. "Emotions economy!"

"God," Eren muttered, crossing his arms. "You're an idiot."

"At least I can regulate my emotions for more than five minutes." Jean hissed, and Eren sneered.

"At least I don't fucking explode every few months because I don't keep shit bottled up like you do."

"No!" Jean snapped, swinging open the front door. "You just explode every few days, right?" With that, he left, slamming the door behind him. Eren waited a beat, silently fuming so hard he couldn't force words out.

"I hope you puke on the tube!" He flung at the closed door, and then made a sound of frustration, balling up his hands by his sides as he spun on his heel. There was nothing to take his anger out on for once, his drum kit at Sasha and Connie’s from the show last night, and he choked on an angry sob as he felt it overwhelm him.

He hadn't been so angry in months. He'd been getting better at controlling it, but Jean's usual venomous pigheadedness had set him off completely. Gritting his teeth, he paced the length of his flat, trying to work off some of the hideous energy.

He always hated himself the most when he got like this. Maybe that's why he'd gotten so hardcore into drumming, because it was a way to work the anger out of himself. Now, with nothing to distract him, he couldn't ignore the way it pounded like poison through him. His head was still spinning, making him feel sick to the stomach, and for a moment he thought he _would_ puke, skin clammy and hands shaking.

He sat at his window and smoked through a pack of cigarettes instead of pounding his fists against the wall like he wanted to. By the time he was calm again, his jaw was aching from clenching his teeth and sadness was settling deep into his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! and ty to everyone who has left kudos or lovely comments i'm just super grateful that despite the ej fandom being a little dead right now people are still enjoying and relating to this fic! it's my baby and a labour of love so it means a lot


	11. Chapter 11

They didn't talk for a week. Eren spent a lot of time hanging around Mikasa and Armin, a lot of time avoiding the practice rooms at university. He resolutely didn't look at his phone, because it was all Jean's fault that they'd argued in the first place.

"You're both as stubborn as each other." Armin said, chewing on a pen as he watched Eren sulk in his bed.

"I don't care." Eren replied shortly, and Armin just sighed and turned back to his work. He knew better than to try and forcibly pull Eren out of a funk. That's why Eren always came to Armin rather than Mikasa, because she knew better but ignored it.

"If you didn't care you wouldn't be moping in my bed right now." Armin added, and Eren bared his teeth at him, which only made him laugh. "Okay, fine, I get it. I'll leave it alone."

It probably would have continued on for weeks if Eren hadn't bumped into Jean on the tube. He hadn't spotted Jean, head down and headphones in, but he'd recognise those absurdly fancy boots anywhere. The doors closed behind him, and Eren met Jean's gaze with mounting trepidation. Jean was staring at him with the same expression, eyes wide and mouth half pulled into a grimace. For a moment, neither of them spoke, like they were waiting for the other to made the first move. Eren sighed. 

"Didn't expect to find you slumming it on the tube." He said stiffly, pulling his headphones out. They were pressed very close due to the rush hour crowds. Eren could smell Jean's expensive cologne, and under that clean laundry and cigarettes. His heart ached across the space between them. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed him.

"My chauffeur was busy." Jean said, and Eren had to look away as he laughed.

"You look like shit." Eren said in reply, and Jean just rolled his eyes. He did look like shit - dark bags under his eyes and stubble on his jaw. Even his normally cleanly pressed shirt was wrinkled.

"So do you." Jean said, giving him a quick once over. Eren shrugged.

"That's not news." He waited a beat, and when Jean didn't reply, he looked down at his feet and said, "Uh, we good?"

He heard Jean snort, and when he looked up Jean had glanced away down the length of the carriage. As Eren took in his profile, he turned back, caught Eren staring. He held Eren's gaze for a second, then looked down at the gap between them. "Yeah," He said, almost too quiet to be heard over the rumble of the tube. "We're good."

Neither of them apologised, but they didn't need to. Jean got off at Eren's stop, followed him up to his apartment and settled into his couch like the past week hadn't even happened. Eren made him coffee, stole one of his smokes, and just like that they settled back into whatever-the-fuck they'd been before the fight. They didn't talk about it.

"You'd tell me if you weren't okay, right?" Eren said into the silence that followed the end of one show and the beginning of the adverts. He wasn't looking at Jean, eyes on the TV, but he could sense that Jean was looking at him.

Jean didn't respond for a minute, and Eren had almost given up before he murmured, "Yeah, I think so.”

And that was that. Eren didn't look at him, afraid that he'd get caught in the headlights like that time so long ago, but he uncurled his legs from his chest and touched his foot to Jean's thigh. After a beat, Jean huffed out a laugh and patted his knee.

"I'm alright." He said, and when Eren looked his way he was smiling, and Eren hadn't seen anything as good in his shitty apartment in a long time.

He grinned back.

\-----

"So where are you from?"

It was pouring down outside, and Jean was in his usual position slumped on Eren's couch. He was messing with his violin, boots propped on Eren's coffee table and beanie pulled down low over his ears. It was freezing, and Eren's landlord hadn't turned the heating on yet, so they were shuffling around in too many layers with mugs of coffee practically strapped to them. It was a real testament to how much Jean hated his own place that he was here at all.

"Cambridge, originally." He answered, without looking up. Eren snorted.

"Figures." 

"Piss off." Jean shot back good-naturedly. "What about you?"

Eren grinned at him from his spot on the floor. He was wrapping his fingers, the blisters worse than usual in the cold. "Right here, dude." He spread his arms to encompass his grotty flat, Camden, the whole of Northwest London and England itself. "London born and bred."

"Figures." Jean echoed jokingly, and Eren flipped him off.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, before Eren piped up, "My mum's from Turkey, though."

Jean raised his eyebrows in interest. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, she moved here for medical school and met my dad a little while after." The mention of his father left a bad taste in Eren's mouth, but he ploughed through. "I take after her a lot."

"She still in London?" Jean asked, eyes back on his violin so he thankfully missed the way Eren tensed up.

"Uh, nah." Eren said awkwardly. "She died about three years back." Jean looked up at that, eyebrows already furrowing as he opened his mouth to apologise. Eren waved it away. "It's okay. Don't."

Jean looked at him for a minute, and then let it drop. He shrugged, leaned forward for his mug of coffee. "You got a dad?" He asked.

"Barely." Eren said, looking down at his taped up hands. "He's off saving starving kids in third world countries with little care about his own starving kids." He didn't mean to sound as bitter as he did, and he clenched his teeth until the wave of resentment passed.

"Rough." Jean commented, and Eren snorted.

"Yeah. That's one word for it."

He didn't ask after Jean's parents. He'd already gleaned enough from hearing Jean talk about them. The sort of parents who threw money at their kid because they couldn't work out how to parent him or didn't even _want_ to parent him. He had an expensive place to himself and the best violin money could buy, but Eren had seen him shrink from Connie and Sasha's casual touches and knew money couldn't replace affection.

Eren still thought about his mother a lot. They'd been pretty well off when he and Mikasa had been younger, before their parents had split. They had been poor after his dad left, and when their mother had died they’d gotten even poorer. Eren didn't remember a lot about her, which distressed him and made him feel sick to his stomach, except for warmth and softness, brown skin and green eyes just like his own. The smell of baking bread and Turkish spices and a feeling of rightness in his chest he hadn't felt since she died. He hadn't cried at the funeral, but had cried afterwards when he found Mikasa sitting amongst their mother's things, running her hands over her clothes.

"I'm sorry to bring your mum up like that." Jean said, jolting Eren out of his memories. He hadn't realised he had frozen, staring down at his hands like an idiot. To his great embarrassment, his eyes were damp when he looked up at Jean.

"Don't worry about it." Eren muttered brusquely. "It was a long time ago."

"That doesn't make it hurt any less." Jean said, and Eren glared at him and tried to work out how best to wipe his eyes so Jean wouldn't know he was nearly crying.

"Doesn't matter, it won't bring her back." Eren muttered, and went back to his tape. After a pause, he sensed Jean set down his violin and stand. Eren tensed as Jean stepped by him, but Jean didn't pause.

"You want a cup of tea?" He asked, and Eren breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yeah." He said, "Thanks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading! apologies for the delay in updating, life is hard and i forgot but it's here now :^)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's some warnings for this chapter u need to know abt before u read, and i'll go into more detail abt them in the end notes a) for ppl who don't want to be spoiled by a trigger that doesn't bother them and b) in case u need to know just how much a trigger may bother u! anyways, mentions of self harm behaviours at the very end, a panic attack, and one very drunken one night stand which eren puts a stop to because it makes him uncomfy.
> 
> also the slowest burn imaginable. it continues

They were drunk again. Post-show, Connie hanging off of Eren as they chanted at Jean as he downed a pint in a showy handful of seconds.

"You've had too much practice swallowing!" Sasha crowed, and Jean grimaced and slapped her over the back of the head as she laughed. "Try and deny it, Kirschtein!"

“God, I hate you." Jean said, and ordered four more drinks.

"Somebody's getting real flashy tonight." Eren said, leaning in close to murmur in Jean's ear. He grinned, turning his face just so, and Eren found himself caught in that gaze again.

"Got my 'sorry I fucked you up' monthly payment again, didn't I?" He said, with a slow smile that made Eren's stomach feel warm. He looked good, so much better than the last time they'd been drunk together. Eren wanted to find out what his throat tasted like, and surprised himself by not feeling surprised at that thought.

"Well, thanks for the drink, Mr and Mrs. Kirschtein." He said, and raised his glass. "May they forever be guilty about turning you into a possible real life sociopath."

"Cheers." Jean said seriously, and his eyes burned so dark through the low light that Eren felt speared by them. They clinked their glasses, and then Sasha spilled her drink down Eren's side, and the rest of the world rushed back in.

Eren was maybe a little drunk. Just a little bit. Jean was wearing a very soft, (probably) very expensive shirt, and Eren couldn't stop touching the small of his back, the crook of his elbow.

Things had been different between them for the past couple of weeks. Ever since they had that fight. Eren couldn't quite put his finger on it, and he wasn't sure when exactly it had shifted but. It definitely had. Eren was happier, he wasn't shredding his hands to pieces drumming so much anymore, and Jean had started looking at him like he was something so much more than he was.

"You wanna head out for a smoke?" He asked, knocking back his drink in one clean movement. Jean grinned, a slow spread, and motioned for him to lead the way.

They had played in a club that was a little more upmarket than the places they usually landed. Eren took this as a good sign, a definite sign of improvement, but his wallet completely disagreed. Jean had been buying the drinks all night, which none of them had complained to. It meant that the clientele was a little more well-dressed than Eren was used to, and he stuck out like a sore thumb in his ratty jeans and flannel. But it also meant that Jean looked better than Eren had seen him in the whole time he'd known him. Jean was apparently an adult, and knew how to dress for fancier places. Eren guessed that his jeans cost a whole month's rent for Eren's shitty flat.

So, Eren was a little drunk, a little starstruck by Jean's ability to clean up really _nice_ , and giddy about how the show had gone. It was all good vibes, and he was practically buzzing when they stepped out into the smoking area and Jean crowded him against the wall.

"This is nicer than the back alley of the 606." Eren commented, lighting up. Jean grunted in agreement around his cigarette as he lit it. Eren lounged back against the wall and watched him from under his lashes, the deft movements of those violinist's hands as he tucked his lighter away and drew his cigarette from his mouth.

"Anything's nicer than the back alley of that place." Jean said, and Eren was reminded suddenly of the time he'd run into Jean beating the shit into that guy there.

"Remember the first time we met?" Eren asked, tilting his head back against the wall and watching as Jean's gaze travelled over him. His gaze settled on Eren's mouth, his collarbones, his hips, then settled back on his eyes. Eren could feel the points where Jean's eyes had stopped, little pricks of warmth blooming on his skin. He smirked, slow.

"Band room or alley?" Jean asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke that was whipped away by the breeze. The muted music from inside made Eren feel like they were very far away from everything, and he took a drag off his cigarette before answering.

"Alley."

Jean laughed. "Fuck, yeah. Barely." He rubbed at his face, swaying into Eren a little as he lost his balance. "Christ, I'm drunk."

Eren couldn't believe that Jean only barely remembered him from that night, not when Jean had run around in his own mind for months after that. He steadied Jean with a hand on his waist, and left it there. "I couldn't forget you." He murmured, and Jean tilted his head down to hear him better.

"Oh yeah?" He said, and when he grinned it was that cocky, self-assured grin Eren loved and hated. "How come?"

"No idea." Eren said, and grinned when Jean laughed. "You just stuck in my head."

"I was off my fucking face." Jean said with a laugh, bracing his hand on the wall beside Eren's head as he swayed again. "I was doing too many pills back then, man."

"Guess that explains the beat down." Eren said, laughing when Jean snorted and leaned in closer. "Glad you're not a pillhead anymore."

"Me too." Jean said in a low voice, not looking away from Eren as he took a drag on his cigarette. "I'm better since I've had to start babysitting your depressed ass."

"No one asked you." Eren shot back, eyes on Jean's mouth. His own cigarette was burning down between his fingers, but both of them knew they hadn't escaped the bar for a smoke.

"Didn't need to be asked." Jean said, his hand moving from the wall to rest on Eren's neck. His fingers were freezing, and Eren shivered under his scrutiny, heart beating madly in his chest. He felt like that deer in front of the headlights again, hypnotised by Jean's gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, to try and say something clever, but Jean brushed his thumb along Eren's adams apple and he stayed quiet.

Just at that moment, when Jean was leaning closer and Eren's eyes were already fluttering shut, the fire exit slammed open beside them and they both sprung apart. It was a couple of girls, and the two of them watched them walk past with twin expressions of surprise. Eren's heart was hammering under his rib cage, and he flicked his cigarette butt away to rub at his face with both hands. Jean was looking at him when he dropped his hands, and for a moment what had just almost happened hung between them. Then Jean grinned, too-wide and over exaggerated, and took a drag off his cigarette.

"Scared the shit out of me." He said wildly, and Eren nodded slowly. "Back inside?"

"Yeah." Eren said slowly, trying to ignore the disappointment settling in his stomach as he followed Jean back into the club.

 

\------

 

They didn't talk about what almost happened. Jean complained too much of how drunk he was, how he couldn't remember a thing, so Eren just tucked it away and didn't mention it. It burned at him, because at his core he was a mouthy bastard and he wanted to demand _why_ , and _will that happen again_ and _what were you thinking?_. But he kept his mouth shut, because he didn't want to ruin the easy way Jean hung out with him, the way he took up space in his apartment like he owned it, the way he bought Eren coffee on campus and sat with him at lunch. Eren always felt like his friendships were tenuous, like one wrong move from him would shatter it, and whatever he had with Jean was too much to ruin just like that.

"You're looking even more feral than usual." Jean commented, glancing at him as they descended the steps to the tube together.

"I'm hungry." Eren muttered, crossing his arms around himself as he waited for Jean to fish his Oyster card out of his satchel. "Student loans is taking their sweet time with processing my payment."

"We can grab dinner at my house before we meet up with Connie, if you want." Jean said absently, swiping his card. Eren scowled, suddenly mad with how easily Jean offered him things and didn't even expect anything in return.

"I'll pass." He snapped, stepping onto the train as it slid to a halt and found himself a seat. Jean hurried after him, and when he took a seat he was frowning.

"Seriously, what's up with you?" He asked, grabbing Eren by the shoulder as he made to turn away. The carriage they were in was pretty empty, save for a few people buried in their phones, but Eren still shrugged Jean's hand off quickly.

"Nothing." He said, and Jean rolled his eyes and grabbed at his shoulder again.

"C'mon, Eren, stop-" He made a sound of frustration when Eren slapped his hand away. "What have I done wrong now? You've been pissed off all day."

"I don't know why you keep doing nice shit for me!" He burst out before he could stop himself. A man down the end of the carriage popped his head up, but swiftly disappeared behind his newspaper again when Eren glared at him.

Jean was staring at him like he was an idiot, but his eyes were sad, mouth drawn into a tight line. Eren looked away, out the windows into the blackness and cursed himself for opening his damn mouth. Now Jean was looking at him like he was something to be pitied and that was the worst thing he could even think of. Worse than Jean's almost-kiss, worse than being kicked out of the school band, worse than _anything_ he could do to himself. His ears burned with shame, and he slid lower in his seat. When Jean tried to touch his arm, he recoiled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What do you mean?" Jean asked, sounding genuinely confused. For a second, Eren envied him for not understanding.

"You're doing all these things for me: buying me food, buying me drinks, buying me shit I don't need! And you're not asking for anything in return."

"I'm doing nice things for you because you're my friend?" Jean said, and Eren made a face. "There's no ulterior motive. I have a lot of money that I don't need, and I wanna spend it on you because you need it more than I do."

"Buying people shit isn't the only way to show people you care." Eren said in a low voice, staring at his feet. Jean shifted next to him, but Eren didn't look up. "It makes me uncomfortable."

"Okay." Jean said. "So I'll stop, and then what? You starve?"

"I was just fine on my own until you met me!" Eren hissed, and Jean looked hurt for a second before his face hardened.

"Yeah, you were great." He said, dropping his voice before he snapped, "You were fucking suicidal with no band tearing your hands up and working yourself into the ground every single day because you hated yourself that much."

Jean seemed to realise he'd gone too far as soon as the words left his mouth, eyes going wide, but Eren was already up out of his seat and pulling his rucksack on.

"I fucking hate you sometimes." He said venomously, as the announcement that they were almost at Leicester Square came over the speakers. "I'm not your goddamn project."

He got off at Leicester Square, even though it was almost an hour walk from his flat. Ducked into a corner store and bought a pack of fags, smoked through half of them by the time he was back home. Taking the shitty, piss-smelling lift up to his floor was ten times worse now, and he avoided his reflection in the mirror in case a glimpse of himself would set off the unshed tears burning his nose and eyes.

Maybe him and Jean were both too angry and fucked up to be friends. Maybe it was good that they hadn't kissed that night in the smoking area, when Jean had looked so good and Eren had wanted him so badly. Jean was the sort of guy Eren would never have a chance with: rich and good-looking with his life stretching out full and rewarding in front of him. There was a reason why Eren either fucked around with dirtbags or was alone. Maybe it'd hurt less cutting it off now before Jean really figured out who he was.

His apartment was depressing him, the same four walls that he’d been staring at for too long looming around him. Seeing the same shit day in and day out: his crappy flat, the tube, university, the tube, home, was too much to handle. The monotony was wearing a groove in his brain, tipping him ever closer to something he wouldn’t make it out of. Jean made it better, a splash of _something_ against those tired old backdrops that kept that groove from growing. But now, with Jean’s hurt face in the forefront of his mind, he couldn’t bear to dwell on it. It reminded him of how comfortable it felt whenever Jean was in his flat, and by contrast the empty space stretched around him. 

He didn’t realise he was panicking until he stood up from the crouch he’d fallen in when he’d walked through the door and the room tilted alarmingly. He couldn’t catch a breath, and he stumbled to the couch to gasp in air with his head between his knees, tears smearing across his face as he ground the heels of his palms into his eyes and fought to breathe. It felt like there was a belt around his lungs, keeping them from filling, or maybe it was the dread in his chest expanding until his lungs were crushed back against his spine. He gasped, choked on a breath and coughed, fingers clenching in his hair as he held his head in his hands and tried to calm down.

His mind was a nauseating spin of Jean’s ugly words and the bone deep loneliness he had been dragging around for too long. His breaths started to even out as he started to dissociate, mind going blank and still the longer he stared at the carpet between his feet and let himself retreat. With shaking hands, he fumbled in his jacket pocket for his smokes and lit one after a few tries, fingers not cooperating with his deadly still mind. 

“You’re so good right now, Eren.” He whispered to himself, letting his head drop back against the back of the couch. He felt loose and barely-there, couldn’t plot the boundaries of his body. He wondered if he was becoming disconnected, all the various parts of him spreading out into searing nothingness in different directions. The thought comforted him, and he imagined sinking his fingers into his chest like it was wax and pulling it apart in fistfuls, finding the black centre of it all and cracking it in his fists. “You’re good.” He repeated, and brought his cigarette to his lips. 

———

Eren got into a fight a couple nights later, drunk and angry at himself and alone at a bar he'd never been to before. He got a split lip for his troubles, and was yanked out of the bar by his neck by some lump of meat that may or may not have been security. He spat blood into the cobbles after him, and then wobbled his way home, buzzing on adrenaline and taste of blood at the back of his throat.

The night after that he took a guy home, another bad, drunken move on his part. He had been at the bar, minding his own business, trying to work out if he had enough money on his card to buy a drink. A guy had come up to him and bought him something strong and fruity that immediately reminded Eren of Jean. Two drinks later, and they were all over each other in the back of a taxi, with Eren trying desperately to convince himself that this was what he needed. It was! He needed to get out there and fuck someone, get Jean out of his head for good. He tried to enjoy the way he was kissing his throat, the way his hands were snaking up under the t-shirt Eren had been wearing for the past three days. There was still blood on the collar from the previous night, but he didn't seem to mind. Eren wasn't sure if he'd even caught his name, and his head spun in the cold night air as they stepped out of the taxi. The guy - Tristan? Aiden? - his hand was warm on the small of Eren's back, and all Eren could picture in his weaving head was Jean's hands poised elegantly over the piano keys.

"Fifth floor." He mumbled, stumbling into the lift and fetching up against the wall as Aiden - he was pretty sure it was Aiden - pressed the button.

"This place is fucking horrible." Aiden murmured, and crowded him against the wall of lift. Eren ignored the nausea in his stomach, and kissed him hard.

Ten minutes later, and Eren's skin was crawling at the feel of bare skin against his, and Aiden's mouth was on his stomach. A minute later and he was shoving him away, the nausea in the pit of his stomach clawing up his chest.

"Man, what the fuck?" Aiden said, pissed off. Eren groped on the floor for his t-shirt and pulled it on, and wished that that would be enough to stop him from feeling so vulnerable.

"Get out." He muttered, and when the guy lingered he repeated it louder, shoving Aiden's trousers and shirt at him.

Aiden threw an insult his way, but he didn't hear it, didn't react. His ears were buzzing, eyes unfocused on the bedsheets crumpled on the floor. He didn't move until he heard the front door slam, and bolted for the bathroom just in time to puke everything he'd drunk that night into the toilet. Shivering, he turned the tap on and washed out his mouth until he couldn't taste vomit or fruity cocktails. He caught his eye in the mirror, and resolutely looked back down at the sink because he really didn't need to see what a fucking state he was right now. The plughole swallowed his gaze, like a dark eye, and he felt himself spiralling down it the longer he stared. His fingers flexed on the cold porcelain sides of the sink, and he took a deep breath as his stomach lurched again.

He felt the need to scrub himself until he felt better, and mentally cursed himself out for bringing that guy back. Eren had never particularly been into sex with people who he _knew_ , or was dating, let alone people he didn't know. The memory of the guy's mouth on his skin made him screw up his eyes and grimace, a feeling of wrongness settling into his bones so deep no amount of washing would get rid of it. He flicked the tap back on and began scrubbing at his hands for good measure. It was familiar and oddly comforting, and Eren gritted his teeth as the soap strung the scrapes on his palms from when he'd fallen yesterday.

His knuckles were scabbed from the fight, and he picked at them under the stream of water until they started to sting and bleed afresh. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he dug his short, bitten nails into the scrapes until his fingertips were red with blood. It was hypnotising, the pain and the blood and he could feel his breaths start to even out the more he scratched at the broken skin. His knuckles burned, the kind of pain Eren hadn't felt for a long time in his hands. He'd stopped drumming until the skin broke a few months ago, and suddenly he yearned for it. Jean was never going to speak to him again, and Eren wasn't sure if he was even gonna let him, so all he had left was to throw himself headfirst into drumming again. He could get good again, like he used to be, and he could be the best version of himself finally. He could make the school band and sit opposite Jean and they could finally, finally be on an even keel.

That thought stopped him short, and instead of examining it, he rinsed his bloody hands under the stream of water and switched it off. The bathroom was cold, and Eren shivered as he patted his hands dry against his shirt. The discomforting wrongness of that guy's touch still thrummed through him, and he paused in the doorway of his room before entering. The sheets were on the floor, the pillows knocked aside, and looking at the scene he could practically feel the way the guy had groped him in the taxi. With a shudder, he pulled a pair of joggers on before grabbing his sheets and straightening his pillows.

He was still pretty drunk, and his knuckles were definitely still bleeding as tried to get comfortable. His brain couldn't quiet down, and eventually settled in on what Jean had said - his favourite nighttime train of thought it seemed. With Jean's words ringing in his head, Eren lay in bed as the room spun around him drunkenly and dawn started to creep across the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!! and thanks for all ur support for this fic so far it's just about half way over and all ur comments/kudos/etc are SO encouraging and good. i started writing this 2 years ago to this day and i can't believe it's FINALLY completed and Out Here
> 
> more in depth info on triggers: eren has a panic attack and experiences some dissociation-related ? intrusive thoughts? about harming himself by sinking his hands in his chest. it's not super graphic but the panic attack might be. he also has an aborted one night stand that he ends abruptly because he's too uncomfortable with it. this is like, the major thing in the fic i wanted to make clear as a trigger, it's in no way non consensual and the other guy doesn't press things but eren's very drunk and very uncomfy. there's some mild self harm behaviours in that eren deliberately picks at his knuckles until they're bleeding for the pain.
> 
> stay safe!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay in updating! my life is getting hectic.

The seasons were turning, the days getting shorter and colder. Eren hated this time of year. It was depressing, and his knee injury from school always throbbed in the cold. He dug his hands down into his parka - which definitely wasn't suited for weather below 10 degrees - and buried his face in his scarf to try and keep out some of the biting air.

He hadn't spoken to Jean in a couple weeks, and had managed to avoid him at university with complete success. Maybe Jean was avoiding him too, Eren thought bitterly, stepping into the warmth of the underground. He could barely remember what he'd been so mad about - his concept of emotions he wasn't feeling at the moment was shaky at best. Jean hadn't been wrong, Eren _had_ been suicidal and working too hard and poor, he just needed to work on his delivery a little. Or a lot. Eren was used to Jean being blunt, it was a thing he hated and admired about him, but Eren had a short fuse and didn't love being told so matter-of-factly everything that was wrong about him.

He gripped onto the rail as the tube jolted toward, and Eren angled his body so he couldn't see himself in the reflection of the windows.

He supposed he was only carrying on this whole silent treatment because he didn't want to crack first. It was just that simple. If Jean wanted to apologise, that'd be great. Eren didn't apologise _ever_ , and he wasn't going to start now.

The walk home from the tube station was horrible, and as Eren trudged along he mentally calculated how much it would set him back to buy himself a real winter coat. He could probably get one decent from a charity shop, he reasoned as he took the stairs to his flat, and that would only set him back maybe £15 at the most. Sure, that was a week of no food, but at least he wouldn't be near freezing to death every time he stepped outside.

He was still mulling it over as he unlocked the door to his flat and promptly stepped on an envelope that was on the mat with his wet, muddy boot. He grimaced, and closed the door with his foot as he leaned over to pick it up. There was nothing written on it, and he turned it over in confusion. Nothing on the back either. Weird, because if he got post it came to his postbox in the lobby - his door didn't even have a slot.

He kicked off his boots at the door and paced through to his kitchen as he ripped open the envelope. He shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the couch as he passed, and clicked on the kettle before he took a look at what was inside.

Inside was a ticket, nothing else, and when Eren flipped it over, it took him a minute to understand. In big block print it announced the annual winter concert that his and Jean's school did for charity. The kettle rumbled next to him as he tried to figure out what he was feeling. Obviously Jean had travelled all across London to slip this under his door, in hopes of what? Eren never came to these shows since he'd been kicked out of the band after the cymbal misdemeanour. Did he think Eren would come and they'd go for a good old drink afterwards with nothing said? It worked like that before, but Eren wasn't so sure if it would cut it this time. He'd flown off the handle over nothing, really, he understood that. Maybe this was a peace offering and Eren should ignore his knee jerk reaction to throw it right in the bin. If Eren knew anything about himself it was to ignore his knee jerk reactions.

The date was for a week from now, and Eren put it on the front of the fridge for safe-keeping. The kettle clicked off, and Eren made himself a cup of coffee before settling in to attempt some reading for class. Ten minutes passed, and he shoved his book away with a huff and dropped his head back against the back of the sofa. Fucking Jean Kirschtein, always getting into his head without even realising it.

Eren spent a few minutes looking for his phone, which he rarely used and spent more time looking for than calling anyone on it. Triumphantly, he dug it out of the couch cushions, and checked it for any messages. There were some from Armin and Mikasa, a load from both Sasha and Connie, and none from Jean. Eren tried not to be disappointed. He weighed up ringing Jean, then dismissed it and instead hit call on Armin's number.

It rang for a minute, and then Armin picked up with a distracted, "Eren?"

"Hey, you free?" Eren asked, tucking his phone between his shoulder and his ear before reaching for his book again.

"Yeah, for you always." Armin said, voice crackly over the line. Eren's apartment had terrible signal, which is why he rarely rang anybody.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm just walking back from class." Armin assured him. "What's up?"

"You know me and Jean haven't been talking." Eren said, leafing idly through his book. Armin hummed in response. "So I got home today and he'd put a ticket to the winter concert he'll be playing in under my door."

"Classy move." Armin commented, and Eren snorted. "You gonna go?"

"No idea."

"Still mad at him?" Armin asked, and Eren shook his head.

"Nah, I don't know." He pulled a face at the wall opposite. "I think I'm starting to realise that actually he didn't do anything wrong."

"It _is_ classic you to fly off the handle." Armin reminded him, and laughed when Eren just grunted. "C'mon, admit it."

"I admit that maybe, just maybe, this time I shouldn't have flipped out on him." Eren said, eyes unfocused on the text in front of him. "Do you think I should go?"

Eren could practically hear Armin rolling his eyes. "It's not up to me." He said, then, "But I think if you've pushed down the impulse to bin it straight away then you're already halfway to your own conclusion of what you should do."

This time it was Eren's turn to roll his eyes. Armin knew him too well sometimes, which could be either a good thing or the worst thing to ever happen. "I should go, huh?"

"Yeah." Armin said, "Listen, I'm about to go into the tube station, so I've gotta go."

"Yeah, okay." Eren said, folding and unfolding the corner of a page as he listened to the sounds of people on the other end of the phone.

"But look, go to the concert if you want to. Wear something nice, for god's sake."

"Yeah, I'll let you know if I do." Eren mumbled, and grinned when Armin huffed.

"And if you're not busy this weekend me, you and Mikasa should get together." Armin added, and Eren nodded.

"Sure. I haven't seen the two of you together in ages."

"Yeah, you've been slacking." Armin said, good-naturedly, and laughed. "Okay, I've gotta go or I'll miss the tube."

"Catch you later." Eren said, and then he was gone.

He threw the phone onto the couch beside him and flipped to the right page in his book, mind oddly settled for once.

\------

"I brought wine." Mikasa announced when Eren let her in. Armin gave her a thumbs up, and she shouldered past Eren to search the kitchen for clean glasses. "And Eren, just a reminder that this bottle is for the three of us and not just you like last time."

"Let a guy make his mistakes and move on!" Eren said, following her through to the kitchen.

"Forgive but never forget." Armin said from his position on the couch, and grinned when Eren flipped him off.

"That's the motto." Mikasa murmured, picking up a glass from the sink with two fingers and staring at in disgust. "Your kitchen never fails to gross me out."

"Yeah," Eren said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Haven't done dishes in a while."

Mikasa gave him a look, but didn't pursue it. "Mugs it is." She said, and snagged three from the shelf.

They settled in to watch a shitty straight-to-TV movie while their pizza cooked, sipping from their mugs of wine and chatting about their days. Eren, sandwiched between his family on his tiny couch, in his shitty apartment, felt a glow of warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his wine. Armin's hand was playing idly with his hair, and Mikasa had thrown her legs over the both of them. It was so comfortable and ordinary that Eren could barely handle it. He'd had a rough few weeks, but their presence felt like a balm.

He tuned back into the conversation just as Mikasa was talking about her day at work. She'd picked up a third job after being sacked from the last one, but the new one wasn't any better by the sounds of it. Eren always got mad whenever he remembered how Mikasa had to work three jobs just to afford an apartment. She used to do night classes, but the debt made her too nervous so she quit. It was frankly unfair how poor Armin and Mikasa were - Eren didn't care that he was deciding between a winter coat and food, it was so much worse for him to see them struggle with money.

"I've decided to pick up taekwondo again." Mikasa said into a lull in the conversation, lips stained from the wine and eyes on the gory film. "Especially since I've started working in Harlesden."

"Good." Eren said, and when he caught her eye she smiled and looked away. "Can you afford it?"

"Just." Mikasa said, taking a sip of her wine. "It'll be worth it." She set her mug down on the coffee table and scooped up Eren's hand into her own. "You using the tape I gave you?"

"Every day." Eren said, feeling sleepy and warm with the wine in his stomach and Armin's side pressed against his own. Mikasa's hands were cool, and she held his hands so gently he thought his chest might burst. She'd inherited their mother's touch. Mikasa was as gentle as she was full of sharp edges, but only Eren and Armin got to see her like that. Eren closed his eyes and tucked his face into the curve of Armin's neck, half-smiled when Mikasa cooed over-exaggeratedly and pinched his cheek.

"Is someone tired?" She asked, and Eren didn't have to have his eyes open to know she was eyeing Armin over the top of his head, amused. He batted her hand away.

"He's had a long week." Armin supplied, his warm hand patting Eren's cheek. Eren snorted and batted his hand away too.

"Don't put words in my mouth." He muttered. "Every week is a long week."

Armin laughed. "Okay, sure."

"Don't tell me it's more Jean Kirschtein drama." Mikasa said, reaching for her wine again. "I've never even met the guy but I feel like he has a date with my boot soon enough."

Eren snorted at the mental image, and said, "Actually, it was mostly my bad this time," at the exact time Armin piped up with, "This is all Eren's fault."

"Makes a nice change. What d'you do?"

"Flipped out on him on the tube." Eren mumbled, refusing to open his eyes so he didn't have to see Mikasa rolling hers.

"That's a dumb place to do that." She said, and Armin made a noise of agreement. The two of them ganging up on him like that always reminded him of their childhood, and he bared his teeth in Mikasa's general direction. "You guys haven't made up yet?"

Eren shook his head, and then Armin hummed thoughtfully. "You're not going to mention how he personally came to the other side of the city and slipped a ticket to his concert under your door?" Eren opened his eyes to give himself the best aim possible as he slapped his hand over Armin's mouth.

"Young love." Mikasa murmured, and Eren pushed his foot into her face.

"I'm literally _one_ month younger than you." Eren gritted out, and Mikasa laughed as she pushed his foot out of her face.

"One month and twenty days." She reminded him, and then yelped when she spilled her wine all over the couch. "God, you're such a shit."

"It's _my_ couch." He reminded her, giving Armin a kiss on the cheek before he extracted himself from the pile the three of them had made on the couch. "I'll get some kitchen roll."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! :^)


	14. Chapter 14

Eren didn't have any nice clothes. Eren's wardrobe consisted of a number of ratty t-shirts and flannels, a green monstrosity that may have once been an army jacket but was now affectionately nicknamed (by Sasha) 'Frankenstein's parka', and two pairs of jeans. It wasn't exactly extensive. It wasn't exactly _Jean's_ wardrobe.

"These jeans are fine." He said, turning to Mikasa, who was reading a book on his bed. She didn't even glance up.

"They haven't had knees to them for like, four years. They're no good."

"This isn't exactly the Royal Albert Hall, Mikasa." He muttered, turning back to his wardrobe. "Listen, I've got nothing to wear, I'm not dressing up."

"You'll look like an asshole." She murmured, turning a page. Eren made a noise of frustration and slammed his wardrobe shut.

"The concert's in two hours, where am I supposed to get clothes between now and then?" He asked. "And with what money?"

"Armin might-"

"Armin is half a foot shorter than me." He interrupted, and rolled his eyes when she shot him an affronted look.

"His roommates aren't." She said, and Eren stared.

"You're not suggesting we rob his roommates."

Mikasa shrugged and turned back to her book. "Robbing is a strong word." She said lightly. "Casually misappropriating for a few hours?"

Eren considered it for a second, and then said, "Okay, but you're distracting them if they're in."

Armin's housemate who was closest to Eren in both height and weight turned out not to be in, which it made it almost too easy to steal a shirt and a pair of dress pants from his room. Armin refused to condone what they were doing, and left to make a sandwich, so it was up to Mikasa to give him a once over before declaring him 'somewhat presentable'.

"That'll have to do." He muttered, tugging at the cuffs of his stolen button down. "Can I borrow your trench coat you took from Dad?"

Mikasa shrugged. "You can have it. I don't wear it anymore."

"Thanks." He said, mentally checking sacrificing food for a coat off his 'things to stress about' list. "I've got time to stop by yours, right?"

"Maybe."

They took the tube together in silence, Eren's mind running in loops as he tried not to psych himself out. His stomach was swooping with anxiety every time he thought about seeing Jean after the show, and after a few minutes of imagining what could go down (good _and_ bad) he had to force it out of his mind.

He grabbed the coat from Mikasa's, leaving his battered old parka there with a promise to pick it up and fill her in on the night soon. The coat was a heavy black wool thing that their dad had worn for years, and looked far too expensive on Eren when he was checking himself out in the windows of the tube. He could barely recognise himself, looking more like Jean had dressed him than himself. He looked sharp, and the smell of Mikasa's perfume on his coat eased his anxiety a little. He found himself almost looking forward to the night ahead.

The concert hall was crowded when Eren arrived, and he had a moment of panic that he'd managed to lose the ticket before finding it folded up in his wallet. By the time he took his seat he was thrumming with nerves, bouncing his leg until the person in the seat next to him gave him a dirty look.

Jean had gotten him a pretty decent seat, and the hall spanned out below him from the first tier balcony. He had a good view of the stage, and the prospect of seeing Jean there in only a few minutes sent a jolt of something undefinable through him. He wiped his clammy hands on his stolen trousers.

When the band filed onto the stage, Eren spotted Jean right away through the sea of black clothes. He looked _good_ , Eren thought, watching as he took a seat and began to fiddle with his violin. Back sharp and straight, one leg tucked under his chair and the other planted in front of him. Eren hadn't realised how much he'd missed the sight of him until he saw him, his dark blond hair and angular profile. Eren didn't realise he was leaning forward in his seat until he had to tuck himself in to let someone else walk by.

As the music began, Jean sat up straighter, face intent and head tilted to the brass section. He was poised, loose-limbed, serene. Face turned towards the conductor, violin and bow held elegantly in place, and Eren was practically holding his breath as he watched Jean place his bow to his violin when the strings kicked in, and then he started to play.

It was almost alien, seeing a guy who was normally so tightly coiled, so on guard, lose himself like Jean was. Despite the audience, the distance between them, it felt oddly intimate, like Jean was baring a piece of himself to him he rarely let others see. Eren wasn't sure if he liked it. With Sasha and Connie he joked around, playing silly tunes on the piano as if that could cover up how technically good he was. Perfect, and Eren didn’t have to know Jean’s history to know that that was where he channelled all that anger and sadness.

Jean’s face was open, bright, just the faintest furrow of concentration between his brows. His fingers, light and easy on the neck of the violin, the bow. The orchestra was playing César Franck's Symphony in D minor, which Eren only knew because Jean had been practicing it for months. The rest of the audience fell away from him as the song began to reach its crescendo, and Eren sat back in his seat to let it wash over him, shutting his eyes to curb the jealousy rising inside of him, too ugly for the sounds the orchestra were drawing from their instruments. A mean little part of him resented Jean for being able to enjoy his coping mechanism, where for Eren his had become something akin to self-harm. His closed his right hand, feeling the scabs on his fingers and palms pull.

When he opened his eyes, Eren found himself hypnotised, hands in fists in his lap, unable to tear his eyes from the sharp line of Jean’s jaw and the way his fingers danced over the violin. He’d never heard something so beautiful, so difficult, played so perfectly. Jealousy forgotten, he leaned forward over his knees, as if he couldn’t help but close the gap between him and where Jean was wringing beauty from the instrument onstage.

Eren watched the bows rising and falling with the music like a flock of birds, the sweet concentration on all of the orchestra's faces. Eren had never been hugely into classical music, but there was something about this piece, the hall, watching Jean play like he'd never done before. It was sweeping him up in the rhythm and the emotion of the music, and his hands were clenched into the fabric of his trousers, unable to tear his eyes away from the stage.

After what felt like a lifetime, the song finished, and the instruments were lowered. Jean let his hands fall to his lap, bow held across his knees. The violin was transformed, just a hunk of a wood again, and Eren's chest was still tight with that unknowable emotion. When the audience applauded, Eren stood, clapping. He knew Jean wouldn't be able to see him, the audience cast in darkness, but somehow Eren felt like Jean knew he was there.

They played for an hour or so more, but none of them captured Eren like the first. Jean made it look so easy, and Eren would've believed the pieces _were_ if he hadn't been listening to Jean complain for months about them. He wondered if Jean had been stressed the past few weeks leading up to this, and felt instantly bad as he realised he'd probably only made it worse.

After the concert finished, and everyone began filing out, Eren had a moment of doubt. Should he leave? Should he get backstage and deal with the very possible wrath of Levi if he got caught? Did Jean even want him to see him after the show, was that the whole point of giving him the ticket?

Eren snuck backstage because fuck it, he didn't have much to lose and really everything to gain from it. What would Levi do, kick him out of the band? Very funny. With his head low, he ducked through the doors leading to the backstage area, vaguely on guard in case Levi popped up. Sure, Eren was confrontational but the less he had to with that guy the better. He passed a gaggle of chattering students, all sharp in their black suits, and kept his head low. Their conversation stopped as he passed, and he winced when it picked back up again, his name in the mix. _That_ was why he never socialised with the people still in the band - they thought he was a goddamn lunatic. 

It took a little searching to find Jean, but eventually Eren spotted him down a corridor talking to a guy Eren vaguely recognised and strongly associated with the piccolo. He hung back a little, nervously tugging at his collar, running his hands through his hair. Jean glanced down the corridor as he spoke, and when he spotted Eren he did a double-take. Eren tipped his chin up, and Jean said something very quickly to piccolo dude before grabbing his violin case and giving him a wave.

"Nice show." Eren called down the length of the hall as Jean came towards him.

Jean’s eyes were soft on Eren, the line of his mouth sweet and nervous. “Meet your expectations?” He asked, going for cocky but landing right in unsure. The curve of his mouth told Eren he noticed, and he glanced away, ears red.

"More than. You were amazing." He said, and then, "It's good to see you again."

Jean grinned, eyes crinkled and pleased. "Same here." He said softly, and set his case down by his feet. "C'mere." He held his arms out, and Eren stepped into them like he'd never left.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled into Jean's shoulder, into the soft fabric of his sharp black suit. He smelt like he always did, cigarettes and laundry detergent and expensive cologne. It felt like coming home. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay." Jean said into the crown of his head, "I said stupid shit too."

"We're the worst." Eren said, and when Jean laughed Eren felt it.

"You don't smell like you." Jean said, a little puzzled, as they stepped apart. Eren stared at him for a split second, and then he reached up, fingers skimming over the stubble on Jean’s jaw, tracing up over sharp cheekbones and into soft hair. He tugged his face down as Jean gripped Eren’s waist, closing the distance between their mouths with a gasp that Eren could feel down to his bones.

Kissing Jean felt like the culmination of everything leading up to it. Eren could practically feel something clicking into place, and he made a breathless noise against Jean’s mouth as his fingers touched the bare skin of his hip, startled by the heat that pooled so quick in his stomach. “I missed you.” He murmured, when Jean broke away to breathe, and he grinned so hard that their teeth clicked together when he dragged Eren even closer to him. Jean kissed him carefully, gently, pulling him close with his hand on Eren’s hip like he was something precious. Eren felt so happy his hands were trembling on Jean’s face.

Adrenaline was zinging under his skin, and he couldn't get close enough to Jean. He wanted to crawl under his skin, he wanted to eat him whole. Eren couldn't believe they'd waited so long. Jean's hands were cool and steady on his skin, grounding. Jean had always been _so much_ , too much, and now Eren was holding him so close his glasses were pressing into the bridge of his nose.

What had attracted him to Jean in the first place had been that tightly wound energy to him, the promise of danger and anger and the taste of blood. Jean, Eren knew now, was so angry and simmering right below the skin, just low enough to be overlooked by the right people. Eren liked it, he liked a challenge, someone who could match him for intensity and passion and pure pig-headedness.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long." Jean sounded breathless and amazed, lips kiss-red and smiling. Eren grinned and bumped his forehead against Jean's.

"Shut up. Me too."

"You wanna get out of here?" Jean asked, and Eren nodded quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! hope it was worth 14 chapters of slow burn to get here lmao , stay tuned for porn next week
> 
> i tag each update with fic: the magpie's solo if yall wanna keep up with updates that way!


	15. Chapter 15

The tube ride back to Eren's house should have been a mood-killer, but Jean kept touching the nape of his neck, his knee, the back of his hand. Eren wanted to kiss him so badly, but there were a couple tired businessman-looking types in their carriage, so he held back.

"I didn't miss this place." Jean commented as they took the stairs to Eren's flat, and Eren scoffed and shoved at Jean.

"Liar. You love my horrible flat."

"I'll never admit to anything." Jean murmured, and pulled him in for a kiss right there on the stairs. Eren's fingers curled in his collar, and it took all his self control to push him away and continue walking.

He fumbled with his keys when they got to his front door, fingers clumsy with anticipation, before Jean took them and unlocked the door for him.

Eren turned to him as they stepped inside, about to make some smart comment before Jean grabbed him around the waist and drew him into a kiss. It was pretty fucking smooth, and Jean was wearing a _really_ nice suit, and Eren was feeling a little weak at the knees.

"You look really good." Jean said in a low voice, breaking the kiss for a second. "I never knew you could even clean up, let alone this good."

"I'm full of surprises." Eren said dumbly, feeling a little punch-drunk. Jean chuckled and drew him back into the kiss, his mouth hot and eager on Eren's.

Eren threw his coat onto the couch, and tugged Jean through to his bedroom where they both worked Jean's suit jacket off and threw it blindly. Jean’s glasses got tossed onto the bedside table, and he squinted short-sightedly after his jacket.

"This suit cost me a grand," Jean hissed nervously as Eren fumbled with his shirt buttons. "It's _Dior_ , Eren.”

"I love it when you talk dirty." Eren muttered, finally getting his shirt open and splaying his palms against Jean's bare skin.

Jean toed off his shoes and pushed him back onto his bed, and Eren propped himself up on his elbows as Jean joined him. He kissed him, hot and slow, Eren's head spinning as Jean started unbuttoning his own shirt. His hands were still cold, and Eren shivered at his touch. He shrugged his shirt off once Jean got it undone, and Jean pressed him down into the mattress with a hand to his sternum. His fingers brushed over Eren's nipple, and Eren groaned and pulled him closer so they were skin to skin.

"I've seriously wanted to do this since forever." Jean murmured into the space between their lips, and Eren squeezed Jean’s waist, nipped gently at his lower lip until he parted his lips and pressed his tongue against Eren’s. Eren was half-hard already, and the resulting flare of heat in his stomach made him groan and press against him. He was suddenly glad they hadn't kissed that time in the smoking area, he loved that he clear-headed and solidly present as Jean's lips trailed over his throat.

Jean propped himself up on one elbow to lean over him, cupping his jaw in his hand as he looked at him. Eren, speechless and chest too full, kissed him. Jean’s mouth was soft under his, pliant and eager, and Eren sighed deeply as he spread his hands over Jean’s chest, one hand sliding up to his shoulder to pull him forwards against him.

"Touch me." He murmured against his lips, and Jean groaned before sliding his hand over Eren's stomach to press against the front of his trousers. Eren moaned, hips tipping up into Jean's touch.

"God, you're so fucking hot." Jean whispered, drawing back to undo Eren's trousers. Over-eager, Eren shoved them down to mid-thigh and pulled Jean back to him. "I wanna suck your cock."

"Fuck, please." Eren said with a laugh, and Jean grinned at him before kissing his way down his throat. Eren twisted his hands into Jean's hair, tipping his head back against the bed as Jean dragged his tongue over his nipple then continued his way down.

Eren propped himself up on his elbows to watch as Jean settled between his thighs, and felt the corner of his mouth lift when Jean looked up at him from under his lashes as he pulled Eren's underwear down. God, it was surreal. Eren was so glad he'd worn his good underwear.

Eren ran his fingers through the longer strands of Jean's hair as he teased him, kissing and licking at his cock until Eren made a pleading noise and Jean smirked at him, finally taking him into his mouth. Eren moaned, hands tightening involuntarily in Jean's hair as his hips twitched upwards into the wet heat of his mouth.

"Fuck, you're so good." He muttered, head thrown back and eyes closed as Jean started sucking him off in earnest. He had one hand wrapped around the base of Eren's cock, the other on his hip, pressing him back against the mattress. His thumb was pressing in, a bruising point of heat, and Eren could feel himself flushing all the way down his chest. He opened his eyes when Jean swallowed around him, mouth open as he breathed heavily and watched how Jean's lips looked around his cock. He used his grip on Jean's tangle of dirty blond hair as leverage as he rocked his hips forward experimentally, and then with more confidence as Jean moaned around him. He sunk deeper into the wet warmth of his mouth, and cursed when Jean looked up at him under his lashes, eyes burning through the dim light of the room. Eren was caught in his gaze again, and when Jean closed his eyes as he sank down on him again the connection snapped, and Eren sagged back against the bed.

He tugged on Jean's hair, urging him to go faster. It was so good, Eren was brainless with it. Everything had narrowed down to Jean's mouth around his cock, the pressure of his hand on Eren's hip and the sparks of shivering arousal in Eren's stomach. His leg was shaking, the one with the old, old injury, but he didn't care enough to stop. Not when Jean was making those helpless little noises with his mouth full of Eren's cock, not when he finally had Jean all to himself, his eyes like heavy fire and his mouth like a dream.

"Fuck, Jean," Eren gasped as he threw a hand over his mouth. "I'm gonna come." Jean kept sucking, slick and hot and _too_ good and god, he knew what he was doing. The thought sent a thrill of heat through Eren, and then he was arching his back and crying out into his hand as he came in Jean's mouth. He gasped through his orgasm, Jean's tongue flicking over the head of his cock until Eren shoved weakly at him when it got too intense. Jean moaned, his hands coming to grab Eren's ass as he sucked marks into Eren's thighs, over his lower stomach and hips.

"Get up here." Eren murmured, reaching out for Jean as he crawled back up the bed, eyes dark and heavy. His lips were spit slick and red, and Eren half-sat up as Jean came to straddle his hips. Ran his thumb over Jean's swollen lower lip before pushing it in, a weak jolt of arousal going through him when Jean's eyelids fluttered closed and his tongue curled around the tip of Eren's thumb. "You're so fucking hot." Eren said, and Jean's mouth hung open a little as Eren pressed the pad of his thumb to the middle of Jean's bottom lip.

"You are." Jean countered, hand dropping to the front of his dress pants as he moved closer to Eren. "I can't believe I finally got to go down on you." He murmured, mouth just centimetres away from Eren's. Their foreheads touched, and Jean leaned in even closer as he said, "I've wanted to get my mouth on you for months."

Eren kissed him, slow and hot. Jean took him by the wrist and pressed his hand to the front of his trousers, and Eren groaned into his mouth when he felt how hard he was. "Can I touch you?" He murmured, hands straying to the button on Jean's trousers as he pushed his hips into Eren's hand, mouth opening on a gasp.

"Please." He breathed, and Eren undid his trousers with a little more fumbling than he would have liked, and pulled his cock out through the slit in his underwear. Jean bit his lip and glanced down between them, at Eren's hand curved around his cock. "Jesus, Eren. C'mon."

Eren squeezed the base lightly, smirking when Jean bared his teeth at him and pushed his cock forward into Eren's grip. "Kiss me." Eren said, and Jean leaned forward to catch his lips in a sloppy, eager kiss that trailed off into a moan as Eren started jerking him off properly.

"Yes, fuck." Jean hissed, hips jolting up into Eren’s hand with every upstroke. "Holy shit, this is real."

"Very real." Eren confirmed, mouth on Jean's neck as he bit a mark into his throat. He continued down, over his collarbones and down his chest. Jean groaned as Eren ran his teeth over his nipple, so he did it again, and again. Jean was _really_ surprisingly vocal, voice low and ragged as Eren brought him closer and closer, pushing his hips up into Eren's tight grip, his hands fisted in Eren's hair as he kissed him.

When Jean came, it was with a broken-off moan as Eren kissed him through it.

"Shit." He muttered, rolling off of Eren into a boneless heap next to him. "Did I get come on my trousers?"

"Only on mine." Eren replied, kicking them off before flopping down next to Jean. "Which are slightly misappropriated from someone, so that's a bummer." 

"Sucks for them." Jean mumbled, pulling off his own trousers before rolling into Eren's side. His breath fanned warm across Eren's throat as he nuzzled his face into the gap between Eren's shoulder and neck. It was so intimate and comforting that Eren smiled, turning his face to press his nose into Jean's hair.

"Hey, so that was a decision." He whispered, hand coming up to curve around Jean's jaw. He felt sleepy and content, body thrumming with warmth and that post-orgasm heaviness. Jean laughed and pressed a kiss to Eren's neck as he slung his arm across his bare waist. His hand was warm as he ran it down Eren's side, making him shiver.

"A move I've been waiting to pull for months." He replied, sounding tired and barely-there. Eren pulled the duvet up around them, and curled onto his side so they were face to face.

"For real?" He asked, examining Jean's face in the low light. He looked happy, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he cupped Eren's jaw and leaned in to kiss him fleetingly.

"For real." He replied, and Eren's heart swelled in his chest. He grinned, and Jean kissed him again, hand steady and sure on the curve of his waist.

The streetlamp outside Eren's window threw bars of light through the blinds over the two of them. Jean's face was lit by the stripes, warm and gentle and lighting his eyes amber through the dark. Eren brushed a fingertip over the curve of his high cheekbones, the cupids bow of his mouth, over his brow and his eyelid as his eyes closed. The deep dark circles under his eyes were there as they always were, but his face was relaxed and open like Eren had never seen it. He felt suddenly fiercely protective, skimming his fingertips gently through Jean's undercut as Jean hummed and pressed his face into the mattress. He tipped his head into Eren's touch in a decidedly feline gesture, and Eren wanted to hold him close from the world.

"I'm sorry I said I hated you." He whispered, and Jean laughed, eyes still closed.

"Everyone hates people sometimes." Jean replied, and Eren smiled when Jean grabbed at his hand and pulled it to his mouth so he could kiss Eren's palm. "I knew you liked me more than you hated me."

"Sometimes I mix them up." Eren said quietly, and Jean blinked open his eyes as his mouth lingered on Eren's wrist, the heel of his palm.

"It's okay." Jean murmured, lips brushing the thin skin of Eren's wrist. His eyes were heavy-lidded and hidden behind Eren's busted-up fingers. "Hate's not as far from love as people think."

They slept curled up together, Jean's face pressed into Eren's chest and Eren's nose buried in Jean's soft hair. Once, Eren woke up, and he listened to the sound of traffic through his window and the soft rise and fall of Jean's breath as he waited to fall back asleep. Jean's arms were tight around his middle, his face pressed so sweetly against Eren’s chest as he slept. Eren wasn't sure what he'd done for something so good to happen to him, but Jean was solid and warm and real against his front so Eren supposed that maybe sometimes good things did happen. He fell asleep clinging onto Jean's warmth, the way he made his chest feel tight and free at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and sticking with this so far! ten more chapters to go, if you can believe it??


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> early update because i'm going away for spring break tomorrow! i won't be able to update this sunday and definitely not next sunday, but i may be able to slip in another chapter some time next week lmao we'll see!
> 
> small warning: there's a brief conversation about jean's self harm scars

They woke up slow the next morning, sunlight slanting onto their bodies as the room grew brighter around them. Eren woke to the smell of cigarette smoke, and without opening his eyes he rolled onto his side and pressed his face into Jean's thigh.

"'Morning." Jean said, voice sleep-rough and fond. His hand combed through Eren's tangled hair, and Eren hummed in pleasure at the feeling. God, he loved waking up next to someone.

He drifted off again, dozing shallowly as Jean stroked his hair and smoked. When he awoke again the room was lighter, and Jean was striped in gold when he blinked his eyes open against the light. The smoke was caught in the light coming through the blinds, hanging motionless in the still air.

"You up for real now?" Jean asked, hand coming to rest on the nape of Eren's neck as he yawned.

"Think so." He muttered, rolling onto his back to stretch with a groan. "How long've you been up?"

"Long enough to know you drool in your sleep."

"Shut the fuck up." Eren said with no heat in his words. He rolled onto his stomach so he could prop his chin on his hands and tilt his head up to be kissed by Jean. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he'd been unsure whether Jean would really still be in his bed by the morning. The fact that he was, all sleep-mussed and tired and pale, made Eren's heart feel too-big in his chest. He grinned, and Jean laughed.

"What're you smiling about?" Jean said, knees to his chest and a dog-eared book he must've found on the floor held in front of him. His glasses reflected the sun coming through the blinds, and Eren yearned to slide them off to see how warm his gaze was. 

"Nothing." Eren said, and let his hand trail up Jean's legs until he dug his fingers into the soft skin of his inner thigh. Jean, smirking around his cigarette, let his knee drop to the side. Silently, slowly, Eren came to settle between his thighs. Jean dropped his book to the side and leaned back against the wall, shivering as his back touched the cool paint, and dropped his other knee.

Jean wasn’t hard, but Eren ignored his cock in favour of kissing the insides of his thighs. Jean made a noise in the back of his throat when Eren grazed his teeth over the soft skin there, and before long the milky white skin was peppered with bites, pink as a blush and blooming darker. Eren pushed Jean's thighs further apart, licked a teasing stripe from Jean's hole right to the base of his steadily hardening cock.

"God," Jean breathed, "I hate you."

Eren grinned into Jean's thigh, closing his eyes and kissing him there. "Keep talking, Kirschtein, and I won't suck you off."

"You wouldn't leave me hanging." Jean said smugly, and Eren answered him by trailing kisses up past his cock to his flat belly.

"Don't test me." He murmured.

Jean was lean in the way Eren was not. Eren was _skinny_ , but Jean looked like he ate well and looked after himself. Eren knew he didn't, of course, but rich genes were good genes. Jean was toned and slender, pale and freckled. Eren wanted to taste every single inch of him. The soft dip of his waist, his pink nipples, the pads of his fingers and the hollow of his throat.

He brushed his fingers over the flat pink scars on the tops of Jean's thighs, eyes flicking up to meet Jean's for a split second before he looked away. Eren could see his ears were red from his position, and he kissed the base of Jean's cock to grab his attention again.

"I'll ignore them if you need." He murmured, and Jean wound his fingers into Eren's hair gently. His eyes were soft, the line of his mouth almost sad.

"No, it's okay." He said, "I just don't like the people I'm sleeping with to see them in case they think it's ugly." His mouth tightened. "Or that I'm crazy, or fucked up."

"I'm those things too." Eren said quietly, propping himself up on his elbows a little. "Do you think I'm ugly?" 

"No." Jean said, dropping his hand from Eren's hair to his chin. "I would never."

"Then don't be so hard on yourself." Eren said, and then smirked. "Especially when I'm trying to suck your dick."

Jean rolled his eyes and looked away, but his hand inched back to Eren's hair. "Get on with it then." He prompted, and Eren did.

He'd gone a little soft, but he still tipped his hips up into Eren's grip when he took Jean's cock into his hand, almost unconsciously. It was kinda hot, and Eren ground his hips against the mattress to try and take the edge off his own hardness a little.

Eren didn't fuck around anymore, licked over the head once before swallowing around him. Jean made a surprised noise, and his hand tightened in Eren's hair. The pain of having his hair pulled went right to his cock, and Eren moaned around Jean and ground down against the mattress again. When he flicked his gaze up, Jean had his head tilted back against the wall, flushed pink all the way down to his chest. Eren wanted to say something, like, God, you're so fucking beautiful. Or, that spot in my mind where I can't get rid of you is my favourite part of myself. Or just something simple like, you're the first person who made me believe I didn't have to be so awful.

But he kept it inside, the unsaid words warming his chest, and concentrated on giving Jean the best blowjob of his life.

\-----

They spent the weekend in bed, on Eren's couch, kissing against the sink. They only left when they ran out of smokes, and once when Jean went around the corner for takeaway. It was perfect, and Eren couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy.

Jean asked him once about his scabbed up knuckles, and Eren lied and said he'd gotten into a fight the other weekend. Jean didn't need to know about his new habit, not when his head when on Eren's stomach and his eyes were so heavy with drowsiness. Eren ran his fingers through Jean's normally perfect hair, now sex and sleep mussed, and changed the subject.

Privately, Eren worried. As a habitual overthinker, it wasn't really new, but sometimes he wished he didn't care so intensely. Most people would probably let this thing go where it wanted, let it develop and grow organically. Eren was not most people. Curled up with Jean on the couch, watching some lame sci-fi movie and sharing takeaway, Eren wondered how this would go once Monday hit cold and sobering. Would Jean kiss him at school, would they sit close on the tube, knees bumping, fingers touching with some secret knowledge? As hard as he tried, Eren could not chill himself out about it. He just told himself to enjoy Sunday, the last day of their self-imposed isolation, and to see how it went.

It was Connie who eventually brought it up, another rainy day practice in Connie and Sasha’s subterranean flat. Eren had just thieved a smoke off of Jean, hanging off his shoulders and watching as he plunked out a little tune on the piano.

“So, like, what’s this then?” He asked, and when Eren and Jean looked up, he gestured between them with his eyebrows raised. Next to him, Sasha laughed around the reed in her mouth, eyes flicking between the two of them and Connie.

Eren felt himself flush, and glanced down at Jean to work out who was gonna take the lead on this. His ears were pink, and he was staring at Eren with an expression he was sure was mirrored on his own face. They hadn’t discussed it yet, and Eren felt trepidation creep through him the longer Jean stayed silent.

"Nothing.” Eren said in the end, completely unconvincingly, judging by Connie and Sasha’s identical expressions of disbelief. “Honest.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.” Connie said, amused.

“Nothing like it.” Sasha added, giving them a knowing look. “Did that Jeanbo charm finally work on someone, then?”

“What charm?” Eren and Connie said at the same time, and just like that the awkwardness dissipated. They laughed, and Jean reached back to slap the back of Eren’s head.

“Very funny, okay.” Jean muttered, “You got me.”

“You’ve got the charm of a brick, man.” Sasha said sagely, “If it wasn’t for that face you’d be dead in the water.”

"Yeah, yeah." Jean muttered, flapping his hand. "I know I'm a fucking dreamboat, you don't have to labour your point."

Sasha snorted and stuck her reed in her mouth. "It's not me you've gotta worry about." She said, casting a pointed glance Connie's way.

"What d'you mean by that!" Connie cried, kicking his leg in her direction but falling short.

Eren laughed, Jean stole his cigarette back, and they went back to goofing around. No more was said, but the knot in Eren's chest didn't ease.

They walked back from Sasha and Connie's together, their breath white in the cold air. It was coming around to Christmas, and all the blocks of flats they passed had fairy lights up in the windows. Eren's hands were chilly, and he shoved them deep in his pockets as they walked.

"So I can't stay at yours tonight." Jean said after a few minutes of walking in silence. Eren shot him a sidelong glance, admiring his sharp profile lit by the passing street lamps.

"No?"

Jean heaved a sigh, raising his eyebrows as he cocked his head to the side. "Parents are coming down to see me tomorrow."

Eren grimaced. "Lucky."

Jean snorted, "Oh, yeah." He shook his head. "I guess it's time for conjugal visits. They've gotta make sure their only son is still alive and not completely mental, I guess."

"At least your parents still want to see you." Eren said, and Jean, surprisingly, just laughed.

"Don't fucking start, Jaeger."

Eren grinned into his scarf and bumped his shoulder against Jean's. "Come round after if you want. Anytime."

Jean didn't reply straight away, eyes on the ground. "Thanks." He said eventually, and snaked his hand into Eren's coat pocket so he could link their fingers together.

Jean kissed Eren goodbye before they parted ways that night, and Eren carried the memory of Jean's cold hand on his face all the way home. It warmed him from inside out, making him so happy that he was almost sure it must be a mistake. The world's biggest, cruellest joke. Things like that didn't happen to him, a self proclaimed unlucky bastard. He knew it would have to end, that he couldn't be happy forever, but he was content to let it play out until the inevitable. At this rate, he'd take a few months of real happiness for a lifetime of whatever the fuck he'd been before.

He fell asleep with his face pressed into a pillow that smelled of Jean, the memory of a warm pair of lips on his as he drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! and thank u for all the wonderful feedback on the past fifteen chapters ur all true blue


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no huge warnings but some references to substance abuse/drug dependency

Eren didn't see Jean the next day, and hung around his flat working on some sheet music for a piano piece he'd been thinking about. He wasn't as good as Jean at the piano, or at writing music, but he figured he'd lay it out and let Jean shape it into something better.

The four of them had been talking about recording some music, either some West Coast-style jazz or something kinda more acoustic. Connie played the bass, Sasha could play some rudimentary guitar and Eren a little more than her, Jean could hold a tune. They'd figured they may pull a real audience if they branched out from jazz, so they'd been playing around with it in their practices more.

It had been a slow, easy day, and Eren went to bed around 1 a.m after smoking half a joint to help him sleep. He wondered if Jean would come over as he brushed his teeth and stripped off his jeans, but figured he would've turned up by now if he was.

He woke a little while later to someone banging on his door. He grumbled to himself and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head as he waited for it to stop. He was used to people waking him up in the middle of the night, his apartment block full of either drunks or students, or drunk students. When it didn't stop, he cursed to himself and stumbled to the door, eyes only barely open as he flung it open.

"Fuck off." He mumbled, then groaned when he saw Jean there, hands tucked in his pockets.

"Well, I'm definitely not gonna give you a handy after that." Jean said, rocking back on his heels. Eren rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, come in."

"Thought you were never gonna open up." Jean said, stepping past Eren into the flat. Eren was left staring blankly into the hallway as his half-asleep brain attempted to catch up.

"God," He said eventually, closing the door and locking it. "It's late, I figured you'd just gone to sleep at your own place."

Jean was shrugging his jacket off, unwinding his scarf from his neck and kicking his shoes under the coffee table as he made himself at home. "Haven't been home yet." He said, and now that Eren got a good look at him he noticed how bloodshot his eyes were, how a dopey grin lingered at the corners of his mouth.

"Are you high?" He asked, still feeling a little buzzed himself. The clock on the stove blinked 2:15 a.m at him, and Eren could feel the lateness down to his bones.

"Are you?" Jean countered, wandering through to Eren's bedroom without him.

"Smoked a little to get to sleep, what's your excuse?" He asked, following. "And how come you haven't been home yet? Got too wild with the parents?" Jean laughed loudly at that, tugging his jumper over his head. His button-up followed, and he grinned through the dark room at Eren, hair sticking up boyishly. "My parents left at like, five. I scored some weed and sat in Ally Pally park until I got too cold, then walked here."

"You _walked_ here?" Eren said, crossing the room to take a seat on the bed. Jean flopped down next to him, lying back on the mattress and stretching until his joints popped. He was still smiling.

"Yeah."

"That's an hour and a half walk, man."

Jean waved his hand before dropping it back over his eyes. "Felt quicker."

Eren stared at him for a second, vaguely uneasy. "Are you okay?"

"I'm so good right now." Jean mumbled from behind his arm. When Eren touched his side, he was freezing cold, and flinched away from Eren's touch a little.

"Jean you're freezing, get into bed." 

"I'm good like this." He said, voice muffled. When Eren drew his arm away from his face, Jean grinned at him, eyes hazy. "Hey, what's up with you, mate? You alright?" 

"I was fine until you woke up me to deal with your stoned ass." Eren said, pulling the duvet out from underneath Jean so he could drape it over him. "I'll turn the heating up." 

"I'm _fine_." Jean said, catching Eren by the elbow as he half-rose from the bed. "C'mere."

Unconvinced, Eren moved closer so he was leaning over Jean. He brushed Jean's hair back into it's usual shape, and Jean grinned up at him. "So how'd it go?" Eren said, still fighting that uneasy feeling in his stomach. When Jean cocked an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "With your parents, dumbass."

"I told them I was seeing a boy." Jean said lightly. Eren's heart jumped in his chest.

"Did you?" He asked, palms a little sweaty. That was a solid confirmation on whatever the fuck was going on between them, right?

"Yeah." Jean drawled, turning his head to the side and letting his eyes fall shut. "Dad wasn't happy, but he never is. They bought me a watch. The usual." He waved his wrist in Eren's face, and Eren grabbed his hand as he realised what Jean was wearing on his wrist.

"Tell me this isn't a Rolex." Eren said, dropping Jean's wrist like it had burned him.

"Okay." Jean mumbled. "It's definitely not a Rolex."

Eren stared down at him, his sharp profile, the slant of his brows and the line of his jaw. He felt suddenly so sad for Jean he didn't know how to contain it.

"I'm sorry." He said, and manoeuvred the two of them into bed properly, holding Jean close in the warm darkness. He stunk of weed when Eren pressed his face into the crown of his head, but he didn't care. Jean's fingers twitched, knotted together in front of him and cold against Eren's belly.

"They didn't care." Jean said eventually, no inflection in his voice. Probably too stoned to really feel much. "I told them I was failing school, that I was dating you, that I was gonna sell the house, everything I could think of to get a reaction."

Eren felt his stomach drop at that, and he closed his eyes with his face pressed into Jean's hair. So Jean just used him a shock factor for his parents. He exhaled, slow, to stop himself from yelling.

"Your parents are shitty." He murmured. "Stop trying to get them to care when you know they're not gonna."

"God, fuck you." Jean mumbled, burying his face in Eren's neck.

"I know better than anyone that just because they made you doesn't mean they have to give a shit."

Jean was silent for a long time, long enough that Eren thought he might have dozed off. Eren pressed a kiss to his head and shut his eyes, wishing selfishly that he didn't have to see Jean like this. It was a horrible thought, one he wasn't proud of, but Eren liked Jean best when he was pretending to be okay. Jean had been not-okay a lot, recently, and it was throwing Eren off-kilter in the most uncomfortable way.

"I don't have anyone else." Jean said, then, voice slow and barely-there. Eren didn't open his eyes, just pulled Jean even closer against him. Their knees bumped, and they adjusted so they fit together perfectly. Eren's heart ached.

"You've got me." He said, "You've got Sasha and Connie." When Jean didn't reply he added, "Sometimes you've gotta make your own family."

"I don't know how to get close to people." Jean whispered after another long pause, and Eren almost laughed. Here Jean was, pressed bare skin to bare skin with Eren in his bed, saying he didn't know how to get close to people. But then he thought, was he the exception? Jean had known Sasha and Connie since school, and still shied away from their touches.

"You can learn." Eren said, stroking his hand over the back of Jean's head to the top of his spine. "Anyone can."

\------

Jean spent the next two weeks smoking himself out and skipping class. Eren tried everything he could think of to get a rise out of him, but Jean would just laugh it off, which only made Eren more frustrated. Connie and Sasha weren't helping, since they were actively _selling_ him the weed, no matter how much Eren told them to cut it out.

"It's really not a big deal, Eren." Connie said, pulling his beanie lower over his ears as they stepped out into the street. Jean and Sasha had sent them out to Poundland for Christmas decor, since they were the only sober ones that afternoon. "I mean, yeah he's fucking annoying like this, but I really don't need to see drunk Jean or pillhead Jean as long as I fucking live."

"Maybe you should consider _helping_ him instead of just letting him use drugs to cope?" Eren snapped, and Connie raised his hands defensively.

"Hey, don't put the blame on me. Jean won't let himself be helped, mate." Connie stuffed his hands back in his pockets, picking up his pace to keep up with Eren as they walked. "You should know that by now."

Eren made a sound of frustration, feeling so stupid and useless for like, the hundredth time that week. "So, what, I'm supposed to let him just fuck up his life because he's gone off the deep end again?"

Connie laughed, shaking his head. "You haven't seen anything yet." At Eren's inquiring look, he elaborated. "Look, take it from me, stoned Jean is so fucking harmless. If you think this is him going off the deep end then consider yourself lucky you weren't around when he was into molly. Besides, he'll stop like he always does. His parents visiting fucks him up, you've just gotta let him do what he needs to and be there for him when he's done having "fun"." Connie made air quotes around the word fun, and rolled his eyes. It dawned on Eren that Connie had probably picked Jean up and dusted him off more times that he'd probably like to say.

"I still don't think that's right." Eren muttered, and Connie just shrugged. He dropped it, and when they got back with the cheap Christmas decor, Jean wrapped him up in a big warm hug. His face was pressed into Jean's chest as he patted his back, and instead of Jean's usual scent all he could smell was pot, clinging heavy to his nice clothes. It made him feel blue, but he just hugged Jean back and avoided Connie's eye.

Eren had never really thought about how Jean would fare around Christmas time. He guessed he just assumed he'd go home to his parents house, stick it out, but maybe that wasn't the case. He knew Sasha and Connie went to go see Sasha's family, so did that mean Jean spent Christmas alone? The thought was too depressing, and he sat on the couch watching Jean hang tinsel from the doorways with a rising tide of melancholy washing through him. He'd _always_ had Mikasa and Armin, his whole life, through the hard years after his mum died and beyond that. He couldn't imagine not spending the holidays with people.

"You gonna help or are you just gonna sit and watch?" Jean called, grinning. Eren rolled his eyes and came to stand next to where Jean was balancing on a chair to hang the tinsel.

"What d'you want me to do?" He asked, looking up at Jean. He was wearing a pair of Eren's socks, he noted, and the conflicting warmth and sadness in his chest was almost making him feel ill.

"Hold my joint and pass me tape." Jean said, passing down his joint which Eren took and stuck in his own mouth. When in Rome, right?

"So you look like you're thinking hard." Jean said conversationally, wobbling a little as he reached up. "Penny for them."

Eren wasn't sure how to broach the topic. To go right in would mean Jean would shut him out completely, he'd have to sidle around it until Jean got there on his own. Which could take a little while, Eren thought, considering how glazed his eyes were, how slow his movements.

"Just thinking about what I'm gonna cook for Christmas day." He mumbled around the joint, hands busy ripping off tape to pass to Jean. He'd moved from the chair to balance precariously along the back of the sofa, stringing the tinsel along after him.

"Oh yeah?" Jean said, and Eren could tell his mind was barely on the topic. "You cook?"

"Believe it or not." Eren muttered wryly. "I'm always in charge of the roast, the other two burn it every time."

"Who d’you spend it with?" Jean asked, accepting a piece of tape from Eren and almost toppling off the back of the couch as he did so. He laughed as he righted himself. "Fuck."

"Mikasa and Armin." Eren said, shaking his head at Connie's questioning glance. "There's always room for one more."

Jean laughed again, that stupid stoned laugh Eren was beginning to hate. "Good for you." He said.

"Yeah." Eren said, ignoring Sasha waving her hand in front of her throat, the universal sign for _stop_. "What're you doing for Christmas?"

"I will be drinking." Jean said firmly. "For three days." He stepped gracelessly down from the couch and plucked his joint from Eren's mouth. "Why d'you ask?"

"Uh," Eren stalled, "I was wondering if you wanna join us."

Jean stared at him for a moment, then grinned, slow. "Pass." He said, then turned to Connie and Sasha, who scrambled to look like they hadn't been watching the whole thing unfold. Like he'd even notice, Eren thought bitterly, staring at the back of Jean's head like he could unlock it and work out what the fuck the guy wanted. "Did you guys put him up to this?" He asked, tone playful. Like it was funny he was planning on drinking himself into a stupor for Christmas.

"No way." Connie said firmly, and Sasha shook her head, eyes wide. "That's all Eren."

"Yeah." Jean said slowly, drawing the word out. "Figures." 

Eren scowled, looking back and forth between the three of them as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. "Fine." He said, "I'll ask you again when you're not stoned out of your fucking mind."

Jean shrugged and flopped down onto the couch, "Sure." He said easily. "Good luck."

Eren left them to their decorating, slamming the door behind him just so they knew how mad he was about the whole situation. Maybe it was because he was a little buzzed, but he had an awful feeling about leaving Jean alone for Christmas. Some creeping discomfort that he just couldn't shake, no matter how hard he tried.

He didn't sleep when he got in, paced his flat, drummed a little, picked at his knuckles over the bathroom sink. When Jean knocked at his door at 3 a.m, he let him in silently and gathered him into a hug that he hoped conveyed everything his clumsy words couldn't. Jean let himself be herded into some of Eren's clothes, into bed, into Eren's arms. Pliant and quiet, Jean pressed his lips to Eren's adam's apple, his jaw, his eyelids. Unsaid words crowded at the seam of Eren's lips, but he just let himself be kissed by Jean and hoped that somehow, he'd understand.

Jean fell asleep before him, and Eren as laid there listening to the sounds of his breathing he decided that he wasn't just going to sit by and let Jean self-destruct like he wanted to. Jean would probably hate him for it, but Eren would do anything not to have to watch Jean smoke or drink his way through a holiday again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back on the regular update schedule, lmao. sorry for it being all over the place a little bit, i was on spring break, then i got super sick, but i'm back at it and ready to get back on track!


	18. Chapter 18

" _Please_ stop looking at me like that." Jean muttered, eyes on the joint he was rolling.

"I'm not looking at you like anything." Eren said, looking away when Jean glanced up.

"I can feel you gearing up to something." Jean said, licking the paper before twisting off the end. Eren eyed it, then crossed the room to come sit on the opposite end of the couch. He held his hand out, and Jean just shrugged and passed him the joint and his lighter. "So just ask." He continued.

Eren sparked up, then handed it back to Jean as he held the smoke in his chest. It burned in his throat, but he couldn't deal with stoned Jean if he wasn't halfway there himself. He watched Jean smoke for a second, before saying, "I just really want you to spend Christmas with us."

Jean rolled his eyes and got to his feet, smoke streaming from his nose as he paced over to the window. Eren stared at his back, the straight line of his shoulders, joint held loosely between his fingers. Slow, Jean exhaled, shoulders dropping like a weight was being eased off them. He looked lonely and cold against the slate grey sky outside, and he took another drag before replying. "I'm no fun at Christmas." He said in a low voice, turning to perch on the windowsill. He crossed a leg over the other, propped his elbow on his knee, face turned away. Eren was struck with how handsome he was, despite the stubble and the dark circles.

"Of course you're not if you're having shitty Christmases." Eren said, stretching his legs out into the space Jean had left. He wanted another hit, but Jean wasn't looking at him. "I don't know what's going on with you right now, but you've always been the first to get up my ass about self-isolating, so don't be a hypocrite."

Jean snorted, and it was obvious the drugs were starting to hit him. He was looser, face less like it was set in stone. "God, you're so much better than when we first met." Jean muttered, eyes gazing unseeing into the middle distance. "I'm jealous." He admitted, and rubbed his face with the heel of his hand. Ash fell into his lap, and he brushed it away absently.

Eren shrugged, uncomfortable. Sometimes he thought the same, and then other times he felt so bad he couldn't see an end in sight. "Everything passes, man. Nothing's forever."

Jean turned his gaze on him, and it had none of the hypnotising draw that it usually had. He looked worn out, tired down to his bones, and God, Eren wanted to keep him from the world. From himself, from his parents, from anything and everything that was making him look so defeated. This _wasn't_ the Jean that Eren knew. "Getting high doesn't even help anymore." Jean said softly, and shrugged as he took a hit. "I don't know where to go from here."

"Come to ours for Christmas." Eren said, rising from the couch to cross the room. He leaned his shoulder up against the wall and plucked the joint from Jean's fingers. "It's okay if you're not _fun_ , who gives a shit, I just want you with me and not on your own."

The way Jean looked at him made something foreign and frightening swell in Eren's chest, a sticky kind of warmth as his heart bloomed. He took a drag off the joint to give himself something to do with his hands, and let himself be tugged closer when Jean hooked a finger in his belt loops and pulled. His eyes were soft, bloodshot and sad, but soft. "Fine." He murmured, "I'll do Christmas with you."

Eren didn't have to lean down far to kiss Jean, and he sighed when Jean's hand came to comb back the hair over his ears. _I love you_ , Eren thought in the comfort of his own mind, cupping Jean's jaw with his free hand. The way Jean tipped his forehead against Eren's felt like a silent acknowledgment, and Eren kissed him again, and again and again.

 

\------

 

Eren was ass deep in Christmas meal prep when there was a knock at the door. He glanced over at Armin, hands covered in stuffing, and gave him a beseeching look. Armin, who was cosied up on the couch with a bad Christmas movie and wine, rolled his eyes.

It was Jean, who stared nonplussed for a second down at Armin before he flicked his gaze to Eren and said, "Hey...Armin?"

"Nice to meet you, finally." Armin said brightly, stepping back to let Jean in. He shot Eren a dirty look when he said 'finally', and Eren flipped him off with a breadcrumb covered middle finger.

"Take a seat, Jean." Eren said, "There's wine over here."

Jean looked uncharacteristically nervous, and when he came to pour himself a glass of wine Eren realised why. He smelt like his usual cologne, which meant he was sober for once. Eren shot him a grin, which Jean returned slowly.

"So, Jean, this is Armin." Eren said, gesturing to where Armin had claimed his spot on the couch again. Armin gave him a little wave. "Mikasa should be along soon."

"I'm shitting myself." Jean whispered into Eren's ear, clutching his glass like it was a lifesaver. "What if they don't like me."

"You're not running the gauntlet here, Kirschtein." Eren said with a laugh, opening the oven to put the stuffing in. "It doesn't matter if they do, and besides, they'll like you because I like you." That wasn't strictly true, because Mikasa had disliked roughly 90% of Eren's past flings but that was just because she was protective and they were shitty. "C'mon, help me make the Yorkshires and get a good baseline tipsy and you'll be fine."

Mikasa turned up twenty minutes later, bearing a box of chocolates and two bottles of wine. She gave Jean a long once over, which Jean stood and sweated through while Eren laughed at him. Later, after she'd observed Jean (a little tipsy, loosened up) sling his arm around Eren's shoulders and press his face into his hair to talk to him, she gave Eren a covert thumbs up. Eren grinned, and squeezed Jean's waist in silent victory.

Armin was fascinated by Jean, and before long he had him sat crosslegged on the couch next to him as he quizzed him about his life practically from conception. Jean caught Eren's eye halfway through explaining how he got into playing the violin and shot him a self conscious smile. Eren just grinned and tipped his wine back. Everything was going exactly as planned.

Eren loved Christmas with Mikasa and Armin. Armin always showed up early to decorate his flat to his very specific vision while Eren got the chicken ready. They were always tipsy by lunchtime, and Eren's flat was always transformed from the old, drab place it was. Fairy lights lit the place in a warm glow, turning the place into a cosy, warm haven from the rest of the world. Eren never really felt at home until his family were all in the same place, so Christmas was his favourite holiday by far. And now Jean was a part of it, looking more happy and whole than he had in a while. Eren grinned into the gravy he was making, feeling more at peace than he had in so long.

"Food's up, guys." He said a little while later, and they ate seated on the floor around the coffee table while Mary Poppins played on the TV in the background. Jean was pink in the face from the wine, stripped down to his shirtsleeves, and Eren felt his heart swell when he caught his eye. Jean rolled his eyes and jabbed him in the side with his elbow, which devolved into a scuffle that Armin and Mikasa cheered on.

"Jean," Mikasa said afterwards, leaning back on one hand as she sipped at her wine. Jean sat up straight, eyes wide. "You've gotta convince Eren to let us come to one of your band's shows." Jean visibly relaxed, and Mikasa shot a smile over the rim of her glass Eren's way.

"I don't know if anyone can convince Eren to do anything he doesn't want to do." Jean said, avoiding Mikasa's eye as he stabbed his fork into a piece of chicken. Eren watched him, feeling a little giddy from the wine and the happiness rising in his chest.

"Please," He said, putting on his best mock-affronted voice. "Continue to talk about me like I'm not here."

"I'm sure you'd invite us though, right?" Mikasa asked, and Eren kicked Jean when he went bright red and stuttered out something indecipherable.

They devolved into banter, and Eren found himself laughing more than he had in months. Afterwards, Jean and Armin did the dishes while Eren and Mikasa climbed out through the window to smoke on the fire escape.

It was cold outside, and Eren found himself shivering after the heat of his apartment. Mikasa pressed close to him, and they huddled together in the cold winter air as they listened to the sounds of London rush by beneath them.

"I like him." Mikasa said eventually, swaying a little on the spot. She was more than a little drunk - merry, their mother used to say - and she smiled at Eren when he put an arm around her shoulders. "He's good for you, right?"

Eren shrugged and rolled his eyes, thinking of the past few weeks, the fights before that. "Yeah." He said after a minute, remembering how Jean pulled him out of his head, kept him above water. "I'd like to think so."

"Good." Mikasa said, pleased. They smoked in silence for a minute or so, until Mikasa rested her head on his shoulder and said, "I've never seen you look at someone like you look at him."

Eren grimaced, embarrassed. "I don't know what you're talking about." He muttered, taking a drag off his cigarette as he looked out across Camden, across the sprawling buildings and lights shining through the darkness. London was too light polluted to see any real stars, especially this close to the centre, but Eren tipped his head back anyway.

"Just take it." Mikasa said with a laugh, head still on his shoulder. "Enjoy that I like one of your boyfriends for once."

"It is a nice change." Eren admitted, and they laughed about it. The wind whipped away the smoke from their cigarettes, sending Mikasa's dark hair webbing across her cheek.

"It's nice to see you happy." She murmured, and Eren just hummed, moved his hand from her shoulder to her face as he brushed her hair back, tucked it behind her ear. "It's been a long time."

Eren didn't have anything to say. He could hear Armin and Jean laughing about something through the open window, the jazz album they'd stuck on bluesy and mellow as it drifted through. "Yeah." He murmured eventually, "I guess it has."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading !! a christmas chapter in march like alright lmao


	19. Chapter 19

Mikasa and Armin got the late train back to her house a little while later, leaving Jean and Eren curled up together on the couch. Eren was drunk, head swimming as he tried to watch the TV from his sideways position on Jean's lap. Jean was combing his fingers through Eren's overgrown hair, and Eren hummed and burrowed his face further down into Jean's thigh.

"Did you have a good time?" Eren mumbled, rolling over so he could look at Jean, who was pink-cheeked and hazy, a smile playing on his lips.

"It was nice." He said softly, running his finger down Eren's forehead, over the slope of his nose and his lips before stopping under his chin. "You look happy." He said, and Eren's heart felt like it was lodged firmly in his throat, so big and full it was almost suffocating.

"So do you." Eren replied, and Jean just smiled at him and bent down to kiss him.

"I got you something for Christmas." Jean said, and Eren righted himself to he could glare at Jean with full force.

"I told you not to!" He said, crossing his arms when Jean stood and crossed the room to go through the pockets of his coat.

"It's only small." Jean said, handing Eren a long black box. "You won't be mad, I promise."

Eren took the box grudgingly, the lightness of it not easing his suspicions at all. "If this is anything over the top I'm gonna kick your ass." He told Jean as he sat down next to him again. He just shrugged, looking smug, and Eren gave him one last nasty look before easing the lid of the box off.

Inside lay two black drumsticks, and Eren looked between the box and Jean a couple times, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Jean was grinning, sitting cross legged with his hands in his lap like a kid.

"D'you like them?" He asked after Eren picked one up, weighing it in his hand. It was so _light_.

"Yeah." He said softly, glancing up at Jean. "They're not wood?"

"They're aluminium." Jean said happily, "So you won't break them as easily. They're also meant to be easier on the wrists because they're lighter."

Eren was seriously, truly _touched_. Jean looking out for him was making him feel decidedly teary in his own drunk way. "Thank you." He murmured, and then threw an arm around Jean's neck to draw him in for a kiss. "This makes what I got for you look like shit in comparison." He muttered as he drew away, covertly wiping his damp eyes on his wrist. "I mean, a box, Kirschtein? You've gotta buy that separate."

"Hey, you got me something?" Jean said, leaning forward over his knees. "Hypocrite!"

"Mine didn't cost anything." Eren retorted. "Didn't even go out and get a fucking box, God." He hopped up from his place on the couch and rifled through one of the kitchen drawers, before coming up with what he was looking for. He hid it behind his back, coming to sit next to Jean again before he said, "Hold out your hand and shut your eyes."

Jean did so, hand trembling slightly in the air between them. Eren pressed it into his palm, and Jean closed his fingers around it quickly. He snuck Eren a glance before opening his hand, and when he saw what Eren had given him he looked up again, brows furrowed.

"A key?" He asked, turning it over in his fingers.

"To my front door." Eren confirmed, and Jean looked up sharply. "Just so you don't have to wake me up when you rock up at the early hours of the morning."

"Eren." Jean murmured, and then he was pressing Eren back against the arm of the sofa as he kissed him. Eren kissed back, sliding his hands over Jean's chest to cling onto his shoulders, wrapped his legs around his waist as Jean grinned into the kiss. "You don't know how much this means to me." He mumbled, holding Eren's face in his hands like he was something precious. He leaned back a little, and the brightly coloured fairy lights were reflected in his glasses, the warm glow of the lamp bathing him in amber light. Eren pulled him close, loving the hard press of his body against his own, the way his glasses pressed into the bridge of Eren's nose, his hands creeping up under the hem of Eren's overlarge jumper.

His hands were cold, but Eren let him strip his jumper off of him and clutch hold of his waist. Jean pressed kisses down Eren's throat, over his collarbones, down his chest. The drumsticks fell to the floor, but neither of them paid them any attention. Eren's hands were fisted in Jean's hair, his head tipped back against the arm of the couch as Jean licked over his stomach, fingers pushed under the waist of his jeans and tugging down.

When Jean sat up to unbutton his shirt, Eren watched him lazily, arm thrown over his forehead. Jean's eyes burned through the low lighting, hair sticking up and cheeks flushed. When he came back to Eren's arms, the press of his bare chest to Eren's sent a thrill through him. He kissed him slowly, making a helpless noise in the back of this throat as Jean ground his hips down against him.

"God, Eren." Jean whispered heatedly against his mouth, one hand braced on the back of the couch as he rolled his hips against Eren's. The long muscles in his arms stood out, and Eren wanted to get his mouth all over them. "I wanna fuck you."

Eren made a supremely embarrassing noise at that, dragging him down with a hand at the nape of his neck to kiss him again. "Please." He murmured, hand sliding over Jean's hip to his ass to press him closer.

Eren took a minute to go rifle through his bedside table drawers, mind spinning and arousal burning low in his stomach as he threw things out onto the floor in search of lube and a condom. Victoriously, he returned with them aloft. Jean was sitting on the couch in his underwear, and Eren threw the lube his way as he stripped off his own jeans and underwear before coming to straddle his lap.

They hadn't gone this far yet, due to general unpreparedness, disinterest on Eren's part and then Jean's two week long depressive stint. But Eren was ready now, and when Jean sank one slick finger into him he moaned into his mouth, biting down on Jean's lip as he fisted a hand into his hair.

"Shit, yeah?" Jean muttered, moving his finger inside Eren as he moaned. Eren nodded, tipping their foreheads together and grinding down. Jean blinked open his eyes, lancing Eren with his gaze, hot and heavy, as he added another finger. Eren felt his mouth drop open, Jean's long fingers reaching that spot inside him which made him gasp. Jean's mouth twitched into a smirk, and Eren tipped his head back as Jean began mercilessly rubbing his fingers over that spot.

"You _bastard_." He groaned, panting as Jean eased up. "Fuck." The slow slide of Jean's fingers was incredible, and Eren's thighs were shaking from it. He pressed his face into the junction between Jean's neck and his shoulder, sucking marks into the skin of his throat as Jean pumped his fingers inside him. Eren could taste the chemical tang of Jean's cologne, and under that salt and skin. God he wanted to sink into him, he wanted Jean to sink into _him_ , he didn't want to know anything but the smell of the hollow of Jean's throat and the feel of his skin against his.

Jean eased a third finger in when Eren regained enough composure to kiss him again, his mouth hot and intense on Eren's. Eren could taste blood, which meant he'd bit him a little hard, but Jean didn't seem to care. He had one strong arm wrapped around Eren's waist, his fingers splayed over his hip as he ground his cock against Eren's. Eren felt like he might explode from all the attention, the overstimulation of Jean's mouth, his fingers, his cock. He panted against Jean's lips, then rasped, "I'm ready, I'm ready, c'mon." It was sweet, how Jean was taking his time with prepping him, but Eren had never minded the burn of being stretched open, and he wanted to feel Jean inside him.

There was a brief fumble finding the condom, which Eren unearthed with a laugh from under the couch. Jean stripped off his boxers, rolled it on and pulled Eren back into his lap by his waist, grinning.

"Ready?" Jean asked, voice shot. Eren nodded, hands braced against Jean's flushed chest. He was so pale under Eren's brown hands, freckled and sweet, and Eren thumbed over his nipple to draw a gasp from him. “God, you look so good.” He murmured, lining himself up, eyes heavy on Eren's. When he pushed in Eren moaned, hands scrabbling for purchase on Jean's shoulders as he stretched him.

"Holy _shit_." Eren gasped, and then Jean's hand was on his face, and he leaned into the touch.

"Are you okay?" Jean asked, and Eren nodded, eyes closed.

"Yeah," He breathed, "Fuck me."

Jean rocked his hips upwards, and Eren moaned and ground down on his cock. He was so hot and hard inside of him, filling him up, and Eren kissed him like he was dying. Jean reached down between them to wrap his hand around Eren's cock, and Eren arched into his touch.

They fell into a rhythm easily, Eren's head spinning. It was _intense_ , Eren hadn't had penetrative sex in so long he'd forgotten how overwhelming it was. Jean was all around him, inside him, and Eren felt drunk on it. Jean brought this mouth to Eren's throat, sucking and biting until Eren was sure he'd be wearing a scarf for weeks. There was just enough alcohol in him to make him loud, and he panted and moaned as he rode Jean's cock, both hands twisted into Jean's hair. His cock was hard between them, smearing Jean's stomach with precome. It was just enough friction to be maddening, but he didn't want to come yet anyway. He loved Jean's big, elegant hands on him, loved the feel of him hard and thick inside him, loved his mouth on his chest and his throat. He dragged his face up to kiss him, biting and almost sloppy, but it was hot to have Jean moaning into his mouth as he thrust into him. 

"I'm gonna come." Jean said, voice wrecked. His thrusts were getting sloppy, out of time, and Eren pressed him back against the back of the couch so he could ride him properly. "Fuck, Eren, I want you to come first." He groaned, dropping his hand to tug at Eren's cock.

"I'm gonna." Eren said, mouth dropping open and eyes closing as Jean started jerking him off. "Don't stop."

His knee was shaking under him, that old injury coming back to bite him in the ass again, and Jean curved his free hand around the back of Eren's thigh to cup the back of knee. When he felt it shaking, he tipped Eren onto his back. Eren cursed, arching his back as the change of angle gave Jean more leverage to pound into him with long, deep strokes.

"Don't stop, don't stop." He panted, throwing his hand over his face as Jean thrust into him and stroked his cock until he was coming all over his stomach. He bit down on his hand as he came, sucking in a breath as his orgasm flowed over him. Jean froze inside him a moment later, hanging his head and moaning as he came too. Eren kissed him, swallowed down his moans and pulled him close so he could feel him shudder. His hand was on Jean’s neck, and he could feel the pounding of his pulse under his fingers. 

"Jesus, fuck." Jean murmured, pulling out of Eren and flopping on top of him. "Oh, that's gross, I just laid in your cum."

"I'm just one big wet patch." Eren said lazily, and Jean made a sound of disgust. "Get up, I've gotta clean up."

He cleaned himself up in the bathroom, and pulled his jumper back on before joining Jean back on the couch. He'd disposed of his condom, but hadn't put his clothes back on. Eren squeezed himself onto the edge of the couch, pressed flush to Jean's naked, lean body.

"This is the life." He sighed, squeezing Jean's ass and laughing when he batted his hand away.

"Don't be a pest." Jean said, gathering him against his chest and dropping a kiss to the crown of his head. "Was that good for you?"

"Yeah." Eren breathed. "I think you literally fucked me mindless."

"Romance really isn't dead." Jean replied, and Eren kissed him until he was smiling against his mouth. "Okay, leave me alone, I get it." Eren kissed him once more before settling back, a sleepy grin on his face. 

"Why're you so nervous about me being into it?" He asked, trailing off into a yawn. "I think it was pretty obvious."

"You were shaking." Jean said, eyebrows furrowed. Eren pressed the pad of his thumb between his brows, attempting to smooth out that little frown.

"I fucked up my knee a few years ago, and it doesn't like me using it repetitively for any length of time." He said, and Jean raised his eyebrows.

"How'd you manage that?" He asked, hand catching Eren behind the knee and hiking his leg up around his hip. Eren took his hand and pressed his fingers to the scar that wound around his kneecap.

"I tore a ligament in my knee playing football." He said, laughing a little self-deprecatingly. "I had to have surgery and stuff, but it never healed right."

"You played football?" Jean asked, eyes bright and amused as his fingers trailed gently over Eren's scar. Eren hummed.

"Yeah, since I was like, six? Everyone thought I was gonna do big things or whatever, but then I fucked up my knee and my mum died, and I went a little crazy in my last year of school, so there's no expectations anymore." He shrugged. "I'm really over it though, seriously, imagine what kinda stupid jock I'd be by now."

"What happened your last year of school?" Jean asked, and Eren laughed.

"Nah man, not tonight, it's Christmas." He kissed Jean briefly. "Another time, when you haven't just fucked me on Christ's actual birthday."

Jean grinned, eyes half shut. "I'm sure he's got better things to do than watch two guys bone." He looked sleepy and soft, pink cheeked and hazy from his orgasm. Eren wanted nothing more than to burrow down into his bed and fall asleep with him. Sober Jean hadn't been around in a while, and Eren was fully prepared to savour it.

They dragged themselves to bed, Eren's eyes drooping as he brushed his teeth. The combo of a late night the previous night, the red wine and the sex was making him so tired, and he zoned out as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He ran his free hand through his mop of hair, wondering if he should have it cut soon. Jean liked it longer, he knew, so maybe he'd just let it go for a little while more. Jean came in a minute later to brush his own teeth, grabbing his toothbrush out of the holder it shared with Eren's.

"Hey." Jean said, bumping Eren with his hip so he could look in the mirror. Eren bumped him back, but his eyes were on the two of them in the mirror. Jean looked so pale and lean next to Eren, dark and straight up skinny as he was.

"I've never noticed how much shorter you are." Jean mumbled around his toothbrush, eyes meeting Eren's through the mirror. Eren spat his toothpaste and shrugged.

"It's like the two most physically different people in the world purposely sought each other out." He muttered before rinsing his mouth. When he saw Jean's pout, he grinned. "Don't worry, you're cute for a white guy."

He laughed at Jean's indignation as he left the bathroom, turning off the lights in the apartment before stumbling into bed with a sigh. Jean joined him a minute later, and Eren curled around him, pressing his face into the nape of his neck happily.

They slept like that, Eren's hand in Jean's, their legs tangled together and the thud of Jean's heart right under his palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!! i can't believe there's only six chapters left it's nuts


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for a mention of past suicide

Boxing Day was slow. They didn’t get up until late, and Eren lounged around in bed while Jean made coffee.

“I could get used to this.” He mumbled, accepting the mug from Jean and bringing it to his face to breathe in the scent. 

“I’m sure you could.” Jean replied, bundling himself back into bed, his own mug threatening to overspill as he drew the duvet up to his chest. "Too bad I'm not actually your manservant."

"You would be if I asked." Eren said, grinning when Jean scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't make it past dressing you." He said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Your closet gives me depression."

"You could Pretty Woman me and then we could finally been seen places together, right?"

"I'm pretty sure that isn't the plot of Pretty Woman." Was all Jean said, and Eren just grinned and leaned into his side.

"Big mistake." He murmured, bringing his hand to Jean's jaw to turn his face his way. Jean was fighting back a smile, eyes purposely not on Eren. " _Huge._ "

"God, shut up." Jean said, shaking his head until Eren let go of him. "C'mon."

They spent the day curled up on the sofa together writing music. Jean had written some when he was stoned, and it was irritatingly good. Eren could tell when Jean started getting frustrated with himself, and pushed a pack of cigarettes his way.

"I need a joint." He mumbled, but took a cigarette and lit it anyway. Eren tugged the papers out of his hands to pore over them.

"No, you don't." He said absently. "You just want one because you're used to writing stoned right now." Jean grumbled and didn't reply. Eren patted his knee, smoothing his thumb over the bare skin until Jean covered his hand with his own. He squeezed Eren's fingers, and Eren squeezed back. "This is good, besides." He added, holding the papers up. "Don't fall into the tortured, drug-addicted musician trope, because I can't fuck with that."

"The Rolling Stones _were_ overrated." Jean mumbled, tone considering, and Eren patted his knee again.

"Yes they were." He agreed. Jean placed his hand over Eren’s and flipped it over. His finger traced Eren’s love line, his life line, gentle over the calluses and broken skin. Eren was holding his breath, watching him make his gentle path over his palm to his wrist.

“Hey,” Jean said slowly, “You never told me why you do this.” His tone was light, curious, and Eren felt himself flush. His eyelids felt heavy, watching Jean trace patterns over his palm, his wrist.

“Because I’m not good enough.” He murmured, quiet as a secret. Jean glanced up at him from under his hair, eyes solemn. 

“What happened in your final year of school?” He asked, holding Eren’s gaze. Eren’s fingers twitched in Jean’s lap, and he dropped his gaze.

“I tried to kill myself.” He breathed, and Jean couldn’t cover up the twitch of sadness that passed over his face. Eren kept his gaze on Jean’s hand on his wrist, pulse thudding heavy in his ears. Stupidly, he felt like laughing. “I hoarded paracetamol for _weeks_ , and it just ended up making me sick. I hadn’t seen Mikasa cry in years, but she did when she found me.”

“Fuck, Eren.” Jean said, voice rough. “I never knew.”

“It’s okay.” Eren said, flicking his gaze back up to meet Jean’s again before he glanced away. “I’m glad I didn’t get it right.”

He dragged Jean into the shower with him not long after that, and sucked his cock under the hot water. Afterwards, Jean massaged shampoo into Eren's hair, hands gentle on him, eyes soft. Eren did the same for him, the both of them laughing when Eren had to stretch up a little to get his hands on Jean's head.

"Showers are too fucking hazardous." Jean said over the sound of running water, catching Eren around the waist when he slipped, and then stumbling himself. "Fuck." He laughed, and Eren shoved at the centre of his chest to make him wobble, grinning when he laughed again.

Jean towelled down Eren's hair when they got out, and when Eren kissed him he smelt like Eren, the festive cinnamon body wash Eren had bought in a fit of Christmas spirit.

"God, I smell like a fucking cinnamon bun." Jean grumbled, and Eren threw his towel over his head and began rubbing at his hair to shut him up.

They ate what was left of last night's dinner curled up in front of the second half of _Home Alone_ , and Jean smoked his way through half a pack of fags before it was over. Eren watched him thread the key he'd given him onto his keyring, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. It lit his chest up warm, and he touched his fingers to the back of Jean's neck, and smiled when Jean leaned silently into his touch.

"You've got any resolutions?" Jean mumbled around his cigarette, pressing his thumb into the grooves of the key. Eren scratched at the shaved hair on the back of his head, it was soft and bristly, and Jean closed his eyes at the touch.

"Haven't thought about it." He said, watching Jean. "You?"

"I wanna be less of a fuck up." He said, flicking his gaze up to meet Eren's. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and looked at it. "I want to work on music every day, I want to quit on the drugs, I want to not fuck it up with you." He looked away, and Eren examined his sharp profile in the warm light, his face so familiar to Eren now. "I want to be less hard on myself." He added, voice soft.

Eren nudged his knee with his foot, and Jean glanced at him, expression melancholy. "I think you can do all that." Eren said, and Jean huffed and rolled his eyes, but a smile played about his lips. "Plus, you don't have to do all that on your own."

"I guess not." Jean said, smiling into his lap. Eren grinned and shook him by his shoulders.

"C'mon, lighten up, you got anything else?" Jean frowned, staring into the middle distance as he thought. "Dig deep." Eren muttered, and Jean waved a hand at him, sending ash drifting onto the couch.

"I want to go somewhere new." He said firmly, "I want to see new places and get out of my head."

"Don't we all." Eren said. "Also, I'm pretty sure your watch alone could buy you a ticket to somewhere decent," He added. "What's stopping you from packing your shit and going tomorrow?" 

Jean shrugged one shoulder, looking pensive. "Myself, I guess."

They stayed up late watching TV, Eren's head pillowed on Jean's lap again, drowsy and barely focusing on the episode of _Flog It!_ Jean was watching with apparent interest.

He thought about what he wanted from himself for the upcoming year, but was coming up solidly blank. To live through it may be a little presumptuous, because who knew what the next year would be like? If Eren was being honest with himself, he hadn't pictured him living through this year at all, so it was leaving him a little lost at planning for the next one.

"I think I'm gonna make a resolution to chill out." Eren said slowly, and Jean laughed.

"Yeah, I think you could probably do with that." He said, eyes on the TV.

"Or maybe I wanna like," He thought, silent while the TV played in the background. "I wanna enjoy drumming again." He said, and Jean glanced down at him, expression fond. "Like, I wanna do it for me again, and not as a means to reach this higher level of whatever the fuck."

"No more drumming-related self harm." Jean said jokingly, and Eren rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, exactly." He said. They lapsed into silence, watching Paul Martin sizing up an elaborate-looking vase. Eren lit up a cigarette and shared it with Jean, the smoke rising above their heads as Jean switched the channel to the news. 

\-------

They rang in the new year at the 606 with Sasha, Connie, Mikasa and Armin. Jean was wildly drunk, and so was Eren, and when they kissed at the strike of twelve Connie and Sasha cheered and slapped them on the back.

"We knew it!" Sasha cried, hugging them both and spilling some of her beer down Eren's back. "God, you just made me a very rich woman."

"You bet on us?" Jean asked, leaning heavily on her shoulder as he shouted in her ear. She grinned and nodded.

"I bet £50 that you were secretly fucking, and Connie bet me that you weren't together yet but would be by the new year."

"Drinks on you then?" Eren said, and she scoffed.

“You’ll never catch me buying.” She said, and grinned at him over the top of her glass. “I wanna hear all the dirty deets later.”

“Never.” Jean said loudly, slinging an arm around Eren and pulling him close. Eren grinned, warm and pleased and drunk. God, it was nice to be able to kiss Jean in public, it was nice not to have to hide.

They wound up in a cab together when the bar started to die down a little, and in a fit of new year’s spirit, Eren directed the cab driver back to Jean’s place.

“God, what are you playing at, Jaeger?” Jean asked, too drunk to care about the taxi driver as he snuck an arm around Eren’s waist and practically pulled him into his lap.

“My resolution is to force you to like that over-expensive place you use to store your collection of shoes and nothing else.” Eren said, grinning when Jean’s mouth made its way to his throat.

“Oh, yeah?” Jean murmured, eyes sharp and wicked on Eren’s as he leaned back a little. “How’re you gonna manage that?”

They practically fell through the front door, Jean’s hand tugging at the back of Eren’s jacket as he threatened to fall on his ass. He shushed him dramatically, and they crept up the stairs to Jean’s flat, laughing drunkenly and shoving each other when they got too loud. Jean fumbled with his keys and dropped them twice before giving up and leaning against the doorframe, leaving Eren to scoop them up, nearly toppling, to unlock the door.

“Fuck me, I haven’t been back here in a minute.” Jean said, slurring a little as he kicked his boots off in the entryway before leading through to the kitchen. “You wanna keep the party going?” He called over his shoulder. Eren braced his hand against the wall to work his shoes off, and then followed through to the kitchen, slinging his coat onto the couch as he passed.

“Yeah man, why not.” He grinned across the counter at Jean, who was reaching up to snag a couple glasses off a high shelf. “New year, new me and all that.” Jean’s shirt had come untucked from his jeans, showing a taunting strip of pale skin. Eren propped his chin on his hands to watch.

“Yeah, continue as you mean to go on, right?” Jean said, turning around with a glass in each hand. “What d’you wanna drink?” He swung open a cupboard to show Eren the multitude of bottles inside. Eren snorted.

“How d’you not even have ice in the freezer but you’ve got a bar’s worth of alcohol?” He asked, and Jean grinned.

“Priorities.” He put the glasses down and hummed as he moved a couple bottles around. “I’ve got some pills around here somewhere.” He added, producing a bottle of whiskey and pouring them each a neat measure. “Maybe some coke, too.”

“As much as I love rich people drugs,” Eren said, rounding the counter to take his glass from Jean. “You know I’ve gotta tell you to cut that shit out.”

Jean gave him a wide eyed look of innocence. “Hey! At least I’ve got some, means I haven’t been using it!”

“You’re a stupid bastard.” Eren said, a little fond, and pressed Jean back against the counter to kiss him. He tasted like the whiskey he’d just poured, like honey on Eren’s tongue, and he kissed him hungrily until Jean was breathing heavy.

“I liked being able to kiss you today.” He mumbled against Jean’s mouth, swaying a little. Jean leaned away to take a sip of his whiskey, eyes burning into Eren over the rim of his glass.

“Me too.” He murmured, hand gentle on Eren’s waist as he pulled him closer. “I haven’t dated a guy in a while, wasn’t sure how the good upstanding patrons of the 606 would take it.” Eren hadn’t meant like that, more about how they weren’t hiding it from their friends, but the mention of dating piqued his interest.

“Oh,” Eren smiled, covering up his drunken wobble by leaning into Jean’s front. “We’re dating now?”

Jean was too drunk to be nervous, he just grinned at Eren, cocky and over-confident. “Of course we are.”

“We sure skipped that convo.” Eren murmured teasingly, and Jean’s hand snuck up under the hem of his t-shirt to skate over his bare skin. He tried to look thoughtful.

“Well, y’know, it really came to me when I was fucking you after you gave me a key to your flat.” He said consideringly, and laughed when Eren smacked his chest. 

“You wanna fuck me again?” He asked, getting on his tiptoes to whisper in Jean’s ear. Jean laughed and groaned, hand slipping from Eren’s waist as Eren took a step back.

“You’ll be the death of me, Jaeger.” He said, knocking back his whiskey in one neat movement. Eren grinned and raised his own glass to his lips, wobbling a little as he stepped backwards. “You really wanna?”

Eren shrugged one shoulder. “Sure.”

Jean fucked him just as rough as Eren liked it, drunken and grinning and biting at his neck, his chest, his stomach. When he came, Eren kissed him hard, overwhelmed by his stupid precious face and the heat and weight of his body over him.

“You know,” Eren mumbled into his hair, as Jean came down from his orgasm, panting heavily against Eren’s neck. “I really think I could love you.” 

“Yeah.” Jean said, voice rough as he pressed a kiss to Eren’s throat. “I think so too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	21. Chapter 21

January was grey and rainy, and Eren surprised himself by being completely okay with that. It was easier to manage waking up in darkness and coming home in darkness when Jean was alongside him. University was difficult, the band was thriving, and Eren felt more at peace with how his life was progressing than he had in years. 

“Y’know, it’s shaping up to be a pretty decent year.” Eren said to Jean, who was staring intently at a sheet of music in front of him. 

They were hanging out in a practice room on campus, sheltering from the rain between classes. Jean hadn’t been here long, his hair still damp, the fresh scent of rain still clinging to his skin. Eren wanted to put his face on the cold skin of his throat and stay there, but Jean was practicing for an upcoming exam, and he knew it wouldn’t be very welcome.

Jean took a minute to respond, mouth moving as his eyes ran over the music on the stand. His fingers twitched on the neck of his violin, and Eren felt a warm rush of affection go through him. “We’re only two weeks in.” He replied absently, flipping a page before settling back in his chair. 

“A good, solid two weeks though.” Eren reminded him, and Jean snorted. 

“Yeah, can’t complain.” He said, and rolled his shoulders. “Shut up a sec.” 

Eren scowled at him, and Jean narrowed his eyes in reply before drawing his bow across the violin to check if it was tuned, then easing into the music. Eren didn’t recognise it, he didn’t have a great ear for classical stuff, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. Hell, he’d listen to Jean play whatever the musical equivalent of the phonebook was. Wonderwall? Maybe. 

“Somehow I always forget how good you are.” He said when Jean dropped his bow to leaf through his sheets of music. Jean aimed a cocky grin his way, and Eren pulled a face. “Shut up, I’m never paying you a compliment again.”

“Hey, you’re looking at sixteen years of hard work right here, man.” Jean said, gesturing with his bow. “Best thing my parents ever did for me.”

“Yeah, because forcing a five year old to play violin is top notch parenting.” Eren said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Jean threw him a look like he was stupid.

“Plenty of kids start younger.” He said, “And besides, I wouldn’t be here right now if they hadn’t.”

“I guess so.” Eren replied, nudging Jean’s calf with his foot in silent acquiescence. 

“Hey, we should do something new tonight.” Jean said after a beat, glancing across at Eren. “All we do is go to bars.”

“I like bars.” Eren replied blandly. Jean huffed in frustration.

“I know you do, but I’m saying we should try something different.”

“Like what?” Eren asked, raising his eyebrows at Jean teasingly as Jean searched for a suggestion.

“I don’t know.” He said finally, “But I’ll think on it.”

They ended up at a bar, but it was different enough and far enough from the 606 that Jean was happy with it. It was some place in Camden with a rooftop smoking area and drinks too expensive for him which Jean supplied with little protest from Eren. 

“This is nice.” Jean said, looking out over the rooftops. The fairy lights strung along the balcony reflected in his glasses, lit his face from the side and picked out the tips of his hair golden. 

“Yeah.” Eren said, unable to tear his eyes away from the line of Jean’s jaw as he sipped at his jack and coke. “Pretty decent.”

They hadn’t meant to get drunk, it was a weekday after all and Jean had a class early the next morning, but midnight found them weaving through the streets of Camden towards Eren’s flat. A couple tourists stopped them and asked for directions, which Eren slurred and stumbled through while Jean hid his smile behind his hand and tried not to laugh.

“Where’d you send them?” Jean asked as they walked off, and Eren shrugged.

“Fuck knows.” He said, and flung his arm around Jean’s shoulders as he laughed. Somehow he knew that year was going to turn out okay as long as he had Jean by his side.

Together, they stumbled their way home, and Eren let Jean unlock his door with his key, a warm ball of happiness expanding in his chest.

 

\-----

 

Sunday night found Eren lounging on the sofa in Jean’s house, watching a re-run of an old Simpsons episode on his huge TV as Jean cooked them dinner. They’d been hanging out at Jean’s house a lot more, and Eren had even slept over a couple of times. The sight of the place still reminded Eren of that night Jean had broken down, but he was beginning to ease himself into it. It wasn’t as empty and sterile as it had been ever since he’d started leaving his stuff there. It was incredible what an extra toothbrush in the bathroom and his old parka hanging up did for the place. 

“Make sure you put some seasoning in there, for Gods sake.” Eren called to Jean, who flipped him off without looking up. He waited until he thought Eren wasn’t looking to reach for the jar of chilli powder, and Eren grinned to himself. 

“So I have some news.” Jean said, and Eren turned looked towards him expectantly.

“Oh yeah? Good news?”

Jean was grinning, staring down into the sauce he was making. “Yeah,” He said. “It’s good news.”

“Spill!” Eren said, and hopped up from the sofa to come join him in the kitchen. Jean’s glasses were fogging up from the steam coming off the boiling pasta, and Eren grinned at him as he took them off to wipe them. 

“Well,” Jean said, putting his glasses back on. “You know the band puts on a trip to go play in Europe in the Spring?”

Eren felt his smile falter a little. “Yeah?” He asked quietly, palms suddenly clammy.

Jean was grinning, oblivious. “Well they’re doing it this year and I got priority because I’m first chair, so I’m going!” He paused expectantly, grin wavering the longer Eren didn’t reply. “So I’m gonna go travelling for a couple months with the band.” He added, smile slipping.

Eren didn’t reply for a long minute, throat closed off as he struggled to process what Jean was saying. The trip was a two month long ‘tour’ of various places, mostly France, Italy and Germany. Eren had always wanted to go on it, but then Cymbalgate had happened and he’d been kicked out for good. He screwed his hands into fists by his sides, and tried to breathe through the immediate rush of panic edged with anger that shot through him. If it wasn’t for his temper he could be going too.

“Eren?” Jean murmured, reaching out a hand to touch Eren’s shoulder. He flinched back, eyes on his feet as he tried to get himself back under control.

“Don’t touch me.” He said tightly. “Just, fuck, give me a second.” God, Jean was leaving him, he was gonna leave Eren just like everyone else did, just when he’d started being happy again. “Jesus, Jean.” He muttered, voice shaky. 

“What?” Jean said, and he’d started to sound annoyed now. Eren glanced up at him, and the irritated confusion on Jean’s face made anger curl hot in his stomach. 

“You’re so goddamn selfish.” He hissed, taking a step back as Jean’s face fell. “You can’t just _leave_.” 

Jean’s face hardened and he crossed his arms across his chest, blocking Eren out. His eyes were like flint, and Eren found himself mentally recoiling at them. God, he’d done it now. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do with my life.” He said, cold and slow, like Eren was a fucking idiot. Eren bristled.

“You can’t just come in and out of _my_ life whenever you feel like it!” He cried, “You can’t just be with me when you’re low and then leave when you’re good again!”

“I’m not!” Jean said, raising his voice as well. “I’m _not_. This is a two month trip, and then I’ll be back and we can pick back up.”

“No we won’t.” Eren said bitterly, half turning. He caught sight of his coat, slung over the arm of the couch, and felt his face crumple. He could see it now, because it had happened so many times to him. Jean would realise just how good everything was going without Eren dragging him down, he’d leave him behind and Eren would try and kill himself just as he did when he was eighteen. He felt his eyes prick with tears, and cursed his propensity towards angry crying. “You’ll realise I’m just a poor bastard you were looking after because you felt sorry for me and because I’m an easy fuck, and you’ll move on.”

When Eren chanced a glance Jean’s way his jaw was set, mouth a long thin line of anger. “Get over yourself.” Jean hissed, and Eren bared his teeth. “Don’t insult me by implying you’re the only one invested in this relationship. Fuck, I hate it when you start feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I can’t help it, Jean!” Eren cried, “I didn’t hate you for making me fucking deal with your stoned ass for two weeks of my life, or when you called me because you were gonna off yourself.” He glanced away, glaring at the food that was probably beginning to stick to the pan. Anger was choking him, and he muttered venomously, “I should’ve just hung up.”

The second the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. Jean’s expression flatlined, and Eren’s heart jumped into his throat in a lurch of panic. Oh, fuck, he’d really done it now.

“Fuck, Jean, I’m so goddamn sorry.” He tumbled over his words, stepping close to Jean as tears welled up in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it, please, I’m so sorry.” Jean was silent, hand braced on the counter, knuckles white. Eren’s heart was thudding, vision blurry as he rasped, “Please, just yell at me.” Jean didn’t say anything, just raised a hand to his forehead and glanced away, and now Eren was definitely freaking out. “Yell at me!” He cried. “Just fucking yell at me, tell me I’m an asshole, you don’t deserve this!”

He made to turn away, but Jean’s hand on his bicep stopped him. Eren tensed up, bracing himself to be hit, but found himself being pulled close instead. Jean’s hand found the back of his head, and after a startled minute Eren wrapped his hands around Jean’s waist, put his face in his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He said, choking on tears which were finally starting to flow. Jean smelt so familiar, so much like home, and Eren clutched him tighter as he cried into his chest. “I didn’t mean it at all.”

“I know.” Jean said quietly, pressing his cheek against the top of Eren’s head. “I know, Eren.”

“You’re too kind for your own fucking good.” Eren mumbled miserably, heart still crashing in his chest. Jean laughed humourlessly.

“First time I’ve heard that.” He said, voice scratchy in his throat. “You know none of that is true, right? About me leaving you.”

“No.” Eren muttered, curling his fingers into the scratchy wool of Jean’s jumper. Jean’s hand stroked a long line from the top of his head to his back, firm and grounding between his shoulder blades. Eren let out a shuddering breath against his chest.

“We’ll talk on the phone, I’ll Skype you, send you postcards.” Jean said gently, and it only made Eren feel worse that he was being so nice to him. Jean could’ve punched him for what he said, he _should’ve_ punched him. “It’s only two months, and then we can get back to normal.”

“I don’t like people leaving.” Eren whispered, and Jean kissed the top of his head.

“I know.” He said quietly, and held Eren while the pot of pasta bubbled over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update! i have a lot going on with school right now, lmao. anyway, thanks for reading! sorry for bursting the domestic happy bubble but u know me


	22. Chapter 22

Eren spent so long dreading Jean leaving that when it actually came to the day, he found himself numbed. Jean had slept over the night before, his suitcase like a personal affront to Eren in the corner of the living room. 

Eren had woken up first, and had watched Jean sleep until his alarm had gone off. Jean was so soft in sleep, mouth slack and sweet, curled around Eren’s body like he belonged there. Eren couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping alone anymore, curled his hand over Jean’s jaw and listened to him breathe.

They showered together, and Eren only cracked a smile when Jean cursed him out for brushing his teeth in the shower.

“Saves time.” He mumbled with a shrug, and smiled when Jean had pulled a disgusted face and stepped out of the shower, soap still clinging to his ears. 

Jean called a taxi, grabbed his violin and his case, and then it was time. Eren could already feel anxiety like a stone in his stomach, and kept his head low the whole time the two of them struggled Jean’s suitcase down the stairs of his apartment building. The taxi ride was spent in silence, Jean’s hand curled around Eren’s.

“You okay?” Jean said, as they made their way through the maze that was Heathrow. Eren mustered up a grin.

“Yeah, dude.” He said lightly, and at Jean’s tilted head he rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I’ve got shit to do, let’s get you to the gate.” Judging by Jean’s expression, he didn’t believe Eren’s feigned nonchalance.

They spied the rest of the band and Eren hung back a little, feeling subpar and out of place. He could just make out the small form of Levi, and willed himself not to search for the guy he’d thrown the cymbal at. Jean pulled up short too, shifting from foot to foot as he glanced between Eren and the group.

“Eren, I’ve gotta-”

“No, it’s okay.” Eren mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I get it.”

Jean visibly hesitated for a second, then took a half step forward and pulled Eren to his chest. Eren went willingly, wrapping his arms around Jean and burying his nose in his shoulder. He tried to map the feel of Jean under his hands, against his front; lean, solid, and comforting. His soft jumper against his cheek, and his ever-present cologne, cigarettes and detergent smell. Eren felt his eyes prick with tears. Embarrassing. 

“Try not to miss me too much.” Jean mumbled into his ear. “Make sure you eat, make sure you see Sasha and Connie, or Mikasa and Armin.”

“I will.” Eren said, words almost lost in the fine knit of Jean’s jumper. He didn’t want to let go, but he stepped back anyway, wrist going to his eyes as he huffed out a laugh. He was an adult, and he was used to being on his own, he shouldn’t make such a big deal about it. “Take care too, don’t go on a bender in Berlin or wherever the fuck.”

“No promises.” Jean said, and patted Eren’s cheek. “Remember, this isn’t the end, this is just,” He cast around for the right word, “It’s just a pause.” He said finally, and grinned when Eren laughed grudgingly.

“God, shut up.” He said, smiling despite himself. “Get over there, I’ve gotta go back to sleep.” He let himself be kissed by Jean, small, sweet things until he was smiling against his mouth. His lips were still tingling as he watched Jean walk away, throwing a wave over his shoulder before the crowd swallowed him up. Eren waited a second longer, and then turned on his heel to leave. 

He paced the parking lot for a little while, smoking. He half-wanted Jean to reappear, but the longer time stretched he realised he was being stupid. He exhaled smoke, disappointment curling in his stomach. People walked past him in a slipstream, reunited families, couples, and Eren had never felt so alone and pathetic. It was incredible how Jean had managed to slide under his skin so easily in such a short amount of time, how he’d made a place inside of Eren which was now too empty for comfort. He felt lopsided with it, off kilter, and he ground his cigarette butt under his boot bitterly.

With the familiar feeling of loss settling deep into his bones, he hailed a cab and went home.

\------

His flat soon became unbearable, too empty and too devoid of another body that Eren felt like he would go mad with it. The longer he spent cooped up, the worse he felt, which crushed any hope of him getting out to hang out with his friends. A spare pair of Jean’s boots were pushed under the coffee table, his toothbrush still in the pot next to Eren’s, and every reminder of his absence pushed Eren deeper into self-pity. He knew he was wallowing, but he couldn’t stop himself.

The first night he slept alone in his bed, he half-woke in the middle of the night and rolled onto his side, fingers searching blindly for the warm lump of Jean in his bed. His hand touched cold sheets, and he retreated miserably back into a ball. When he woke again, the sun was streaming through his blinds and his face was pressed into a pillow that smelt like Jean. It took him a long time to get out of bed, and he wore an old t-shirt Jean had left behind for the whole day. 

A long week after Jean had left, he bumped into the postman on his way back in from class. It inspired him to check his postbox, and amongst the flyers for takeaways and advertisements, he unearthed a postcard. He examined it as he stuffed the rest of his post back in his box and locked it, and unbidden, a smile began to creep across his face.

Jean must have bought it almost as soon as he touched down in Paris, and it depicted a gargoyle from Notre-Dame which Jean had scrawled ‘you’ underneath with an arrow pointing. He flipped it over as he half-jogged back up the stairs to his flat, eyes skimming quickly over Jean’s chicken scratch as his smile widened. 

_Eren,  
I hope you’re not going too crazy without me, I know I’m like 80% of your impulse control so I’m just gonna list off some likely things I need you not to do: don’t get that tattoo, don’t get into that fight, you know that’s not pure MD so don’t spend your money on it, don’t tell Connie about that time I stole his favourite grinder. Paris is pretty decent. The supermarkets all smell the same, even the little ones, but the cigarettes are good here and there’s barely any dog shit in the streets (that’s a lie, this place is paved in it). I broke a string on my violin halfway through the first performance (shredding too hard) and had to walk down every weird alleyway in this city to find a place to sell me some new ones. Levi has been red wine drunk every single night since we got here, but so have I so I can’t even make fun of him.  
Hope everything’s good at home, make sure you eat your veggies, etc etc. Stay safe.  
Jean _

Eren put it on the fridge, holding it in place with a chipped Dominos magnet. He was still grinning, and rolled his eyes at himself. God, if that’s all it took to raise his spirits, maybe it’d be okay. He sought out his phone after reading the postcard over again and laboriously typed out a text to Jean on the busted keypad. _Got your postcard. You better hit up duty free for me on your way back, or you’ve got nowhere to sleep at night. Miss you._

Jean replied in an instant, Eren’s phone vibrating in his hands before he even had a chance to chuck it back into its habitual place amongst the couch cushions. _I’ll buy you so many cigarettes you’ll drown in them_ it said, and Eren smiled to himself before putting his phone aside.

Sleeping alone was still difficult, and Eren twitched with the desire to drum until he busted the skin of his hands, but knowing Jean was thinking of him too eased it a little. Maybe this could really work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! comments r always great :^)


	23. Chapter 23

Eren could feel his mood taking a nosedive a couple days before it truly hit the ground. He knew it wasn’t because of Jean’s absence, knew it had to happen at some point as it always did, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d feel better if Jean was there to make him eat and get out of his flat. 

He spent the tail end of the third week of Jean’s absence growing steadily lower and lower, and it wasn’t until he was sitting at his kit and Sasha and Connie’s place that it finally snapped.

“I need a fucking drink.” He muttered, standing from his stool and brushing past the two of them to the kitchen. The music wasn’t coming to him with the ease it had been, and his hands were shaking so bad he couldn’t keep time. He fumbled with his pack of smokes that he’d left on the kitchen counter, and when he finally got one lit he sighed, sagging against the counter. Connie and Sasha were in the doorway, watching him with twin expressions of hesitation. It dawned on Eren that they’d never seen him acting _off_. He’d always kept it in around people, but around Jean he hadn’t felt so ashamed about it. Now he’d forgotten that everyone wasn’t Jean, and he could feel himself flushing down to his toes. “Uh…”

“You wanna smoke up?” Sasha asked, tilting her head to the side as she fixed Eren with a sad look. Eren swallowed, eyes wide.

“Uh, yeah.” He mumbled around his cigarette, eyes flicking between Connie and Sasha. “I’d really like that.” He wanted a drink, he wanted Jean, he wanted a handful of benzos and not to wake up for a week or so. But, he’d take a joint, yeah. For sure.

Sasha folded him into her arms the minute they sat down, and Eren tried not to be embarrassed by the look Connie shot their way.

“How’re you holding up?” Sasha asked when Connie came to sit on Eren’s other side, settling his rolling tray on his lap.

“I’ve been better.” Eren said, eyes on Connie’s hands as he picked apart bud and dropped it into his grinder. “Here, pass me the ashtray, man?”

Connie popped it onto Eren’s knee, and Eren ashed in it before bringing his cigarette to his lips with trembling fingers. Sasha’s eyes followed it, and if she noticed the ever-present scabs on his knuckles that he never let heal, she didn’t say a thing.

“Jean’ll be back before you know it.” She said instead, and Eren glanced away.

“It’s not because he’s gone away.” He said, only partly lying. It _wasn’t_ , but he was sure as hell not as okay as he would be. That thought was scary, Eren had never liked to be dependent on people who could easily leave him for his happiness, but he supposed there was little he could do about it. “I just get like this sometimes.” 

Connie handed him an expertly rolled joint, and Eren took it reverently, lighting it off the butt of his cigarette. Okay, he knew he’d bitched Jean out about this exact same behaviour, but what Jean didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? It wasn’t like he’d spend two weeks in a smoked out daze, either. He just needed a little something right now to take his mind off the rapidly widening pit in his chest. 

“It’s okay.” Connie said, rolling another joint as he spoke. “We’ve been through it all with Jean, you don’t have to hide anything from us.” He looked up at Sasha over Eren’s head and gave her a look Eren couldn’t decipher. “I was real depressed after I lost my mum, I get it.”

Eren turned to stare at Connie, heart sinking a little in his chest. “I lost my mum too.” He said, quiet. “I’m sorry.”

Connie laughed ruefully, leaning across to hand Sasha the joint he’d rolled. “It was a long time ago.” He said, rubbing his hand over his shaved head as he stared at Sasha. “That’s why I never made it to university, but it’s okay, I’ve got my dad, and my sisters, and Sasha.” 

Eren felt almost smothered sitting in between them, Sasha’s arm around his shoulders his only anchor. He realised he’d never gotten very real with either Sasha or Connie, and barely knew anything about their lives outside of partying or the band. He touched his pinky to the back of Sasha’s hand, a silent connection. His friendship circle was slowly growing, and Eren felt more solid the more he thought about it. Without friends he felt nebulous, vaguely untethered, and maybe that was why he’d been feeling so awful since Jean had left. It was hard to go from having someone’s attention so much to being on his own.

“You know, I’ve never really had friends before you guys.” He murmured, “You and Jean were my first friends outside of my family in years.”

Connie grinned and leaned forward to ruffle his hair up. The strong joint Connie had rolled his was already beginning to get to him, as he went to bat his hand away and missed by a long shot. “You can be a little, uh,” Connie grinned as he searched for the word.

“It’s the scowl.” Sasha supplied, and Connie nodded and pointed.

“That’s it.”

“It’s just how my face is.” Eren mumbled miserably around his joint, pressing his hand against his brow as if it would smooth out the constant frown there. 

“And we love it.” Sasha said, patting his cheek. Eren felt himself smile, silly and a little stoned. “And you’re good for Jean, which makes you solid in our books.”

“Am I?” Eren asked, tipping his head back on her shoulder so stare at the ceiling. His joint burned down between his fingers, and he hissed as ash dropped off onto his knuckle. “I mean, am I really?” He said absently, examining his hand.

“Yeah, for sure.” Connie said, and when Eren glanced up at him he was grinning as Sasha passed him her joint. Eren waited while he took a hit, and then Connie said, “Uh, he used to drop off the deep end a lot more regularly. Since he got to know you it barely happens, like, you thought November was bad? Imagine that, with harder drugs, like once a month or something.”

“He’s got too much money and not enough sense.” Sasha said, and when Eren grumbled she shrugged. “It’s true. We love him but we see him. He’s been practically like a stable person since he started scooping you out of various alleys and gutters.”

That reminded Eren of the first time they’d met, and he laughed suddenly. Connie smiled at him fondly. “You feeling better?” He asked, and Eren took a minute to consider that. No, because he knew well enough he’d sober up and have to deal with himself at some point - he was only delaying the inevitable. But yeah, sure, of course he was. He felt untethered and happy, like his brain had fuzzed out for a little while. It was a good feeling.

“Sure.” He murmured. “For now.”

Connie clasped his hands together in front of him, expression comically pained. Eren began to laugh, but Sasha slapped her hand over his mouth. “Eren,” Connie said solemnly, “For once, please, enjoy the moment instead of being pre-bummed about the future so we can get high and play MarioKart like God intended.”

“Okay, okay.” Eren said, muffled behind Sasha’s hand. “I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! just two more chapters left lmao


	24. Chapter 24

Eren turned twenty-two while Jean was in Italy. He woke up to someone pounding on his front door and when he opened it, bleary-eyed and half naked, he half expected it to be Jean. Instead, it was Mikasa with Armin in tow, both of them pink-cheeked from the lingering cold and grinning.

“Happy birthday.” Mikasa said, and wrapped him in a big, familiar hug. Eren, still half-asleep, patted her back dumbly. Armin gave him a kiss on the cheek and pushed a box into his arms.

“Get dressed.” He said, and Eren just blinked at him. “We’re gonna go for lunch.”

Birthdays weren’t normally a big thing for them, and they certainly didn’t do _lunch_ ever, so Eren was suspicious. He pulled on some clothes, tugged a beanie on over his bedhead, and joined them in the living room again. Mikasa was doing the dishes, and Armin was lying upside down on the couch, fiddling with his phone. He glanced up when Eren came in, looking around for his shoes, and snapped his fingers to get his attention.

“God, we’re snapping fingers now, are we?” Eren muttered, and Armin pointed to the box on the coffee table.

“It’s from us.” He said, and Eren narrowed his eyes. 

“What’s going on.” He said slowly, and the guileless looks Armin and Mikasa gave him only made him squint harder.

“Celebrating your birthday.” Mikasa said, rinsing the suds off a plate Eren remembered using two weeks ago to eat buttered bread off of. “What else?”

He took a seat next to Armin and began to lace his boots up. So, this was one of two things. One, they were feeling bad for him and were trying to cheer him up on a day he usually ignored at the least and hated at most. Or, two, they were as genuinely surprised that he’d made it to twenty-two as he secretly was. Knowing them, it was probably a mix of both, and he tugged the box closer to him grudgingly. The least he could do was play along with this, right? God knows he’d put them through enough. In another month or so it would be four years since That Day, the day he’d well and truly fucked up, and he knew Mikasa always got stressed if he started acting down around then. 

“If this is expensive I will kill you both.” He said mildly, ripping off the wrapping paper. Both of them grinned indulgently, and he huffed. “I know exactly how much the both of you make, I won’t hesitate.”

“Just be quiet and open it.” Armin said, and Eren nudged him with his knee.

“I am!” He said, sliding a box roughly the size of his spread hand from the paper. “Oh, guys,” He said, “You know how I feel about boxes you gotta buy separate.” He opened it up, and gaped at what was inside. “Oh, no way.” He said, putting it back on the table and holding his hands up. “Nah, this is too much, take it back.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes at him, like they’d gotten him something from the pound store and not a goddamn _iPhone_. “I’ve had enough of trying to get ahold of you on that thing you call a phone and not being able to because it shouldn’t exist in the 21st century.” She said, placing a glass in the drying rack. “It’s secondhand, so don’t shit your pants too much about it.”

Eren pulled a face, looking down at the phone in front of him. “I don’t need this.” He said, “You should spend your money on better things.”

“Stop pretending like you’re not gonna be around long enough to deserve stuff.” Mikasa snapped, and then sighed, pressing her fingers to her forehead. Eren felt himself flush. God, he’d never even seen it like that. “Just take it, happy birthday.”

“Is that what you really think I do?” Eren asked slowly, weighing the new phone in his hand. Mikasa didn’t look up from the sink, just shrugged.

“Well, don’t you? Apart from your drum kit, you wouldn’t be sorry to lose anything here.” She waved a wet hand to encompass Eren’s bare flat. “It’s like you’re constantly ready to leave.” She said, voice wobbling a little at the end. Eren frowned and crossed the room to stand next to her. She didn’t look up when he put an arm around her shoulder, just patted his hand clumsily with one sudsy hand. 

“I’m not gonna leave.” He said gently, and pressed his face into her hair. She smelt like home, like she always did, and he suddenly felt so sorry for everything he’d put her through that his chest ached with it. She didn’t say anything, and he kissed her cheek before gathering a smile. “C’mon, hey, let’s celebrate. You said something about lunch?”

When she finally turned to him, she was smiling, a little sad around her eyes but smiling nonetheless. “Yeah,” She said, “Armin picked the place.”

“I went there with my grandpa a few years ago.” Armin piped up, and when Eren turned he had his elbows propped on the arm of the couch, smiling. “We’ve been saving up.”

Eren groaned. “You’re too good to me.”

“We know.” Armin said with a grin, and Eren pulled Mikasa into a rough hug when she laughed. 

“Okay, okay.” He said, ruffling her hair. “Let’s go.”

\-------

Eren was well on his way to being as drunk as it being his birthday entailed when he got a text from an unknown number. He squinted at the screen of his new phone, too big and bright, and painstakingly unlocked it.

“I can’t use this thing.” He hissed to Armin, who had trailed with him to the smoking area of the bar they were in to make sure he didn’t get lost. Okay, maybe Eren was a little further along the road to drunk as he thought he was. 

“Just tap the message app.” Armin said patiently, leaning in to watch. “No, the green one with the speech bubble.”

“I _know_.” Eren said, tapping it with his index finger.

“You type like my grandpa.” Armin said, amused, as he watched Eren tap out a message. “What does it say.”

“I think it’s Jean.” Eren mumbled, focused on the _tiny_ virtual buttons. “Oh, goddamn it.” He breathed as it corrected ‘fuck’ to ‘duck’. “He got this number off Sasha?”

“Mikasa and her are talking.” Armin said, leaning back against the wall with a sigh. His cheeks were pink, eyes hazy. Eren hadn’t seen him drunk in a while, it was cute.

“Huh, shit, okay.” Eren said, pressing send. “Mikasa putting in some hard graft or what?”

“Something like that.” Armin replied, and they grinned at each other for a second.

“No, I don’t wanna think about that.” Eren groaned, dragging a hand over his face, and Armin laughed. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket while he lit up, and he pulled it out with his free hand to see Jean had replied. He’d sent him a happy birthday message and a picture of him with red wine stained teeth. _Get messy too and it’ll be like we’re celebrating together_ , the message read, and Armin directed Eren through the steps to take a picture of himself and send it.

“Jesus,” He muttered, swaying on his feet as he took a drag off his cigarette, examining the picture. “Is that what I look like?”

Armin peeked at his phone and shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Eren mumbled around his cigarette, eyebrows raised as he hit send. “Oh man, that is wild. I just sent a picture to Italy.”

“It probably cost you like fifty pence.” Armin said, and Eren gave him a shocked look. 

“I knew this was a bad idea.” He said, as his phone buzzed with another message. “He’s not gonna stop texting me.”

“That’s sweet.” Armin said, taking a sip of his G&T. Eren grunted, taking a drag off his cigarette to hide his smile.

“Would be if it wasn’t costing me a fortune to send them.” He said, and grinned when Armin elbowed him in the side. “Okay, okay, yeah it’s sweet, damn.” Armin smiled complacently at him, and Eren glanced away, grinning. “What?”

“It’s funny seeing you happy over a guy.” He said, smiling big when Eren rolled his eyes and turned away. He bit the inside of his mouth to keep him grin under control, heart big in his chest.

“I miss him.” He said, watching Armin sip at his drink. “But it’s not as horrible as I thought it was gonna be.”

“Nothing’s as awful as you think it’ll be.” Armin said smartly, and Eren rolled his eyes again. Whether it was because he was drunk or not, he couldn’t help the grin tugging at his mouth. 

“I love him, I think.” He said, quiet, like a secret. “Or, at least, I could. Love him, I mean.”

Armin gave him a long look, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I think that would be the best idea you’ve had in a long time.” He said softly, and Eren rubbed at his mouth to conceal his smile.

“Yeah.” He murmured, dropping his cigarette butt to the ground and grinding it out under his heel. “Yeah, I think so too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! lads i'm truly PUSSY that this is the second to last chapter.. what a fucking trip?


	25. Chapter 25

As time went by it became steadily easier and easier for Eren to adapt to not having Jean around all the time. Maybe it was good for him, he hung out with other people more, got used to being okay on his own. He didn’t wake in the night and reach for the warmth of Jean’s body, but he still missed Jean’s presence, his sniping comebacks, his mannerisms. Texting wasn’t the same, Skype wasn’t the same. Eren was a tactile person to his bones, he wanted to run his fingers through Jean’s hair and press his mouth to his pulse. 

He threw himself back into drumming, trying to recapture that spark he’d felt when he’d first discovered it as a tool for letting out all his pent up emotion. It worked a little bit, but too often he found himself with bleeding hands and aching wrists.

He was on video call to Jean, listening to him describe a particularly wild night out he’d spent in Berlin a week or so before.

“So like, anyway, we realised pretty quick it was a leather club.” Jean said, scratching his nose as he glanced at something out of Eren’s view. “We were severely underdressed.”

“Too bad you forgot your all leather outfit you have hanging up at home.” Eren said, face in his hands, and Jean laughed. It came through tinny on Eren’s laptop speakers, and he wished he could hear it in person, feel the buzz of it against his lips.

“Yeah, right?” Jean said, eyes flicking from Eren’s face and then down. “Hey, dude, your hands are busted.”

“What?” Eren said, then glanced at his hands. “Oh, yeah, I guess.” He tried to play it off, but Jean’s eyes narrowed. 

“You guys can’t be doing much practicing with me not there.” He said, and Eren shrugged one shoulder.

“We’re getting more work done than ever, actually.” He said snottily, smirking when Jean rolled his eyes. “Might kick you out of the band, even.”

“Over my dead body.” Jean retorted, then, “You’re fine though, right?”

Eren was vividly reminded of the first time he’d brought Jean back to his flat when he said, “Shit happens. RSI is like, the status quo, right?”

Jean widened his eyes at him like he was stupid, and Eren tugged his beanie down over his ears in annoyance. He couldn’t be bothered to go over this again, not when he missed Jean, not when they were just supposed to be shooting the shit about their lives. “It’s so _not_.” Jean said emphatically. 

“Okay, okay, whatever.” Eren said with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t care.”

Jean was silent for a second, like he was biting back what he wanted to say. It was unlike him, but Eren would take it any day over being grilled about whether he was hurting himself. “I’ll be back soon.” Jean murmured eventually, and Eren leaned back on the couch with a smile.

“I know. Armin downloaded me an app that counts down the days until your return flight.”

“That’s so gay.” Jean said affectionately, and Eren laughed.

“I’ve got news for you.” He said, leaning forward, and Jean laughed and held up a hand.

“I’m not ready for it, Jaeger.” He said, grinning hard, eyes fond. “God, I miss you.” He said, after a beat, staring down at his hands. “Partying isn’t the same without your lightweight ass.”

Eren pulled a disbelieving face. “Hey! Who the fuck drank like two Smirnoff Ice and threw up once?”

“I was fourteen!” Jean cried, and Eren laughed until his cheeks ached as Jean tried to come up with more and more stories of Eren being drunker than him.

“Face it.” He said, stomach hurting from laughing. “You’re always a state and I always end up dragging you home.”

“I refuse to believe it.” Jean said, and then opened his mouth as if he was about to continue before glancing off to the side. His face dropped a bit, but he nodded before turning back to Eren. “Hey, listen, I’ve gotta bounce - we’re all heading out for tapas.”

“I love it when you talk bougie.” Eren said, batting his eyelids as Jean scoffed. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Really soon.” Jean said, “Two weeks.”

“Shit,” Eren teased, “I’ve only just got the place looking how I like it, I don’t need you messing it back up.”

“Shut up.” Jean said affectionately, and ended the call. Eren snapped his laptop shut and stretched, groaning as he worked out in the kinks in his back from being hunched over. Then he stood, paced his flat aimlessly for a minute before settling on making himself a cup of coffee. Time had been dragging a little bit, he often found himself with more time than he needed but with nothing to do.

He picked idly at his knuckles while he waited for the kettle to boil, thoughts fading into a background hum as he spaced out. Jean was right, his hands were kind of busted, but nothing like they used to be. He stretched them out in front of him, turning them this way and that as he tried to adopt an objective eye. Yeah, okay, they were kind of fucked. Jean probably only picked up on them because he hadn’t seen Eren in a while, and he hadn’t seen Eren back into drumming with his usual fervour in a very long time. 

Eren missed him, he missed him so much sometimes it felt physical, lodged down deep in the pit of his stomach. It was the small things, like not having anyone to talk about his day with, or anyone to eat dinner with. His friends were good, and they were there, but they had their own lives that rarely kept to Eren’s crazy schedule. It made evenings long and insufferable, lit by the screen of his laptop or the TV, and sometimes he went to bed early so he didn’t have to be alone with himself. He’d lie there in his weirdly big bed, listening to music pound through the ceiling and the floors and wish he had someone to curl up and block out the world with.

But Jean was coming home soon, and Eren whistled as he made his coffee, spoon clinking against the sides of the mug as the smell wafted up to greet him. No more sleeping alone, waking alone. The band would be whole again, and Jean could settle back into their lives like he never left. Eren hoped Jean knew how important he was to the people around him, hoped to God he didn’t think he wasn’t missed.

\-----

Eren spent the last few days before Jean’s return date too keyed up to manage. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been truly _excited_ for something, like he was a kid again or something. He cleaned his flat from top to bottom, something that took three loops of Eren’s old work out mix from when he played football and a whole lot of elbow grease. Mikasa, who had invited herself over to supervise but was mainly sitting on his couch dropping crumbs on the floor, looked impressed.

 

“I think it’s cleaner in here than when you moved in.” She commented through a mouthful of her sandwich, and Eren very pointedly handed her a plate. “Nah, I’m alright.” She said, waving it away and cramming the last in her mouth. Eren made a face of disgust at her, then made her vacuum the couch after. “I hope you know that Jean won’t care that this place is clean.” She added, shouting over the sound of vacuum. “He’s definitely seen it in a worse state.”

“I’m stress cleaning.” Eren replied, switching off the vacuum before crossing the room to open the window, cigarette already in his mouth. “I’ve got too much time on my hands and keep getting distracted from work, so.” He shrugged one shoulder, and Mikasa smiled indulgently at him.

“Cute.” She said, and Eren just waved her off. “You meeting him at the airport?” 

“If I can afford the taxi over.” Eren said, flicking his cigarette butt away. At Mikasa’s concerned expression, he rolled his eyes and laughed. “Yeah, I’m gonna go meet him.”

“Can’t wait for you to stop moping around on my couch because you haven’t got shit all to do.” She said, and Eren scoffed.

“If I could sit on your couch all day every day you’d be over the moon.” He retorted, taking a seat next to her. She dropped her head onto his shoulder and sighed.

“True, at least I could keep an eye on you then.” She paused, nails scratching at a stain on Eren’s jeans before she said grudgingly, “But I guess Jean keeps a pretty decent eye on you too.”

“Damn,” Eren muttered, leaning back a little so he could see her face. She resolutely avoided his eye, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Praise from Caesar.” 

“Shut up.” She muttered, planting a hand over his face and pushing him back. “Get back to cleaning.”

Eren couldn’t sleep that night or the night after for anticipation of having Jean back in his bed so soon. What he’d felt wasn’t the same aching loss he had when Jean had left, just a kind of slow burn of yearning that cropped up in the strangest places. Making himself coffee in Jean’s mug, catching the end of one of those ridiculous game shows he liked on TV, burning a grilled cheese just right. 

He was anxious from when he woke up at the ass crack of dawn, through to the taxi ride to Heathrow and onwards. He paced the car park, smoking, a move very reminiscent of what he’d done when Jean had left. But now there was anticipation and anxiety and excitement overflowing in him rather than dread. It was a good feeling, made his palms sweaty and his fingers tremble as he smoked. He was too early, Jean’s flight didn’t even come in for another hour so Eren had too much time to kill. He ended up smoking through half a pack in no time at all, seated on the wall outside the concourse, heels drumming against the brick. His throat was burning a steady throbbing pulse, and it matched the ache of his wrists, the red raw skin on his fingers, his palms. 

He had given Jean a generous forty-five minutes to clear customs, so when he strolled through to the gate he expected to be waiting a little longer. God knows Jean probably had enough alcohol in his luggage to kill a horse, he’d be held up for a decent amount of time. However, as he walked with his head down, mind racing, he heard a very familiar voice calling his name.

He glanced up, a grin already stretching wide on his face as his heart beat hard in his chest. Jean called his name again, and Eren followed the movement of his waving hand to find him. His heart lurched, like it was trying to physically pull him forward, and Eren let it. 

Their reunion was quiet. Eren pressed his face into the hollow of Jean’s throat, where he always smelled the same and the only place Eren had ever felt safe. Jean’s hands settled in his hair, steady and comforting and silent. They didn’t need words. _I missed you_ , Eren fisted his hands in the back of Jean’s shirt, and the press of lips to the crown of his head was a silent acknowledgement.

“You look good.” Jean said, finally breaking away from Eren to hold him at arm's length. He cast a critical glance over him, and Eren bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning. “Have you been eating?”

“Mostly.” Eren said, and then poked Jean in the belly. “You have.”

“I’ve been living off red wine, cheese and bread for two months.” Jean said smugly, gaze warm on Eren. 

“You look great.” Eren said, and pulled him in close again. Jean’s hands settled comfortably around him, like he’d never even left. Eren’s heart swelled until he was sure it would choke him, and he pressed his face to Jean’s neck as he felt his eyes well up a little bit. “God, it’s good to see you.” He murmured. He completely forgot they were in a crowded airport, ignored the people around them as he pulled Jean’s face to kiss him, finally. His lips were steady against his own, soft and slow. Eren wanted to pull him closer and keep him all to himself.

“I know.” Jean said, hands tight on Eren’s waist as they broke apart far enough to smile at each other. “Sleeping alone wasn’t the same.”

Eren smiled at him, so pleased and happy he was sure he’d burst. He kissed him, “I love you,” He said, mumbled against Jean’s lips. “I love you, I love you.”

Jean’s fingers skated over Eren’s scabbed knuckles, laying his big, elegant hands over Eren’s as he grinned into the kiss. “I love you too.” He murmured. “Eren. Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow fuck i can't believe it's over? end of an era. thank you so much to everyone who has read this and left comments and kudos, yall are so good to me and to this story. here's 2 everlasting love
> 
> u can find me on tumblr @ girlshinji if u have any BURNING questions abt this au u want answering !


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